


Ten Deductions I Hate About You

by elsarenard



Category: 10 Things I Hate About You (1999), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, BFF Irene, Crossover, Drinking, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Johnlock - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of drugs, OOC behavior, Parental figure Mycroft, Siblings Molly and Sherlock, Slash, Wooing, un britpicked, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-07-18 07:39:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7305631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elsarenard/pseuds/elsarenard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lestrade moves to a new school he quickly becomes captivated by the lovely Molly Holmes. The only problem is Molly is not allowed to date until her older brother Sherlock does. So Lestrade must find someone tough enough to win the shrewish Sherlock over so that he can begin wooing the girl he wants. 10 Things I Hate About You AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags and the following warnings:  
> So one of my favorite movies of all time is 10 Things I Hate About You that’s loosely based on Taming of the Shrew (think of it as a modern high school AU…which I’m now using as my own AU). Watching last time I thought about how Sherlock would make a perfect Shrew and decided to do a fanfic crossover piece between the two using Sherlock characters. I’ve listed the character conversions below so you can figure it out! If you have any questions about why I’ve chosen certain people feel free to ask. Part of it came down to making logical partnerships for the three relationships that end up happening. Character casting isn't perfect, but it was fun to try to fit them in the roles and the story will hopefully reflect that.
> 
> The problem with blending an American movie and British TV show is that cultural clash is going to happen. So yes, I’m aware elements of the story might not be perfectly accurate to British culture. Sorry, it’s just going to have to work. If it bothers you don’t read it!
> 
> Cast:
> 
> Kat Stratford- Sherlock Holmes  
> Bianca Stratford- Molly Hooper  
> Mr. Stratford- Mycroft Holmes  
> Cameron James- Greg Lestrade  
> Michael- Sally Donovan  
> Patrick Verona- John Watson  
> Joey Donner- James Moriarty  
> Bogey Lowenstein- Anderson  
> Mandela- Irene Adler  
> Ms. Perky- Vicky (TSOT)  
> Mr. Morgan- Mrs. Hudson  
> Mr. Chapin- Magnusson  
> Chastity- Mary Morstan

Lestrade shifted nervously in his seat as the secretary kept typing away at her screen. He wasn’t sure why she hadn’t looked up.

Then again, he supposed she had better things to do than to deal with the new student. He cursed his father again for moving him halfway across the country.

At long last she pulled her eyes away from the screen. Her gaze flickered over him and she smirked.

“So, Gregory… welcome to our lovely school. I’m sure you won’t find it much different than your old ones,” she said with a fake smile. “Here’s your schedule. Off you go.”

He grabbed the papers she’d thrust at him. “Oh um…that’s it? There’s nothing else I need to do?”

“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “Now I’ve got a novel to finish. You’ll find all the information you need on that paper.”

He frowned and grabbed his bag. Well, so much for a warm welcome. He’d just have to hope he could find his way around.

Another boy bumped into him going through the doorway. Short and stocky build, and camo print clothing. Even though he was smaller, he hit Lestrade with a fierce stare. The new boy backed away as quick as he could, only catching a bit of a conversation about inappropriate behavior from the secretary.

He was stopped in the hallway by a young woman. She was leaning against the wall with a phone in her hand. She tucked it away and looked up when he appeared. Lestrade took a moment to assess her, taking in her professional dress and attractive features.

“You’re Gregory Lestrade right?” she asked.

“Yep, that’s me. Er…but I go by Greg…or Lestrade if you’d prefer,’ he said, swallowing down his nervousness. She was decent looking, but the way she carried herself intimidated him. He was even more struck by her firm handshake.

“Sally Donovan. Call me either. I’ve been asked to show you around,” she said.

He nodded and followed after her as she began walking briskly down the hall.

“So,” she said after a moment. “Here’s your basic breakdown. Over there, the typical social elite. Don’t even bother talking to them unless they address you directly.”

“And whose rule is that?” Lestrade asked, staring at a guy wearing a rugby shirt.

She rolled her eyes. “Watch this.” She made a point of waving at one of them and smiling. “How’s it going?”

The boy raised an eyebrow and sneered. “Fuck off.”

Sally sighed and kept walking. “You see?”

They continued on into the cafeteria. Lestrade noted it was bigger than his last school and was only glad when Sally didn’t immediately abandon him but instead continued to point out the various social circles.

She pointed to another group. “Jocks,” she said before turning to circle the room. “People you can buy drugs off of. Nerds. Those not going anywhere with their lives. Chemistry buffs. Musicians. Honestly, that probably covers it…. Well other than that group. I don’t talk about them.”

He looked over to a group in the corner of the cafeteria. Lestrade noted they all were well dressed and appeared to be engrossed in work rather than much social interaction.

“All future politicians,” Sally said with a frown. “I used to be a part of them. Was practically their leader. Then fucking Anderson decided to start a rumor about me. Nasty thing too. As though life wasn’t hard enough for a woman like me.”

“You’re interested in politics?” Lestrade asked curiously.

“Was,” she said with a shrug. “Until I realized what kind of idiots are in it. I might still go into something in the public sector. I’ve been thinking it could be interesting to be in the police force. Going to head to college next year and then try my luck applying to an academy.”

Lestrade nodded. He hadn’t given much thought to a future career.

“Er…sounds good.”

His attention was caught by an attractive girl walking by. She was wearing jeans and a cardigan, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. Many might have passed her over as plain, but her features were delicate and she had a smile on her face. He looked her over appreciatively.

“What group is she in?” he asked as she went to sit at a table with another girl.

“The don’t-even-think-about-it one,” Donovan said. “Molly Holmes. She’s a sophomore.”

“God, she’s gorgeous,” Lestrade said with a sigh. He smiled as he let his eyes run over her.

“And probably brilliant too, I’m sure,” Donovan said with an eye roll. “All right, I’ll give her this…she’s top in the biology. Otherwise, I’m sure she’d rather spend her time buying pink blouses and playing with her cat and all that shit. Please don’t tell me _that’s_ what you find attractive?”

“I’d give anything to spend a few minutes talking to her,” Lestrade said with a grin. “Look at those lovely eyes. That smile!”

“Forget her,” Donovan said with a shake of her head. “Her family is incredibly uptight, and it’s a widely known fact that the Holmes siblings aren’t allowed to date.”

Lestrade just stared after her as she continued towards another doorway. He simply allowed Donovan’s words to fade into the back of his mind. Past history was of little consequence to him. He’d find a way to win her, no matter what it took.

* * *

 

 

 

Sherlock had already been in a foul mood before he arrived at his English class. To say the least, being surrounded by morons and forced to read material that he found completely pointless did nothing to boost his mood.

His only comfort was in knowing the teacher was at least someone he rather enjoyed. Mrs. Hudson beamed at them as they took their seats. Sherlock sighed and settled back, doing his best to avoid eye contact as his nemesis took a seat beside him.

“Hello Sherlock,” Moriarty said with a leer. “Had a good weekend did we?”

“Not like yours,” Sherlock muttered. “But then again, we can’t all drug unsuspecting girls at parties now can we?”

One corner of the boy’s mouth turned upwards as his eyes roved over Sherlock.

“Suppose not,” he said with a smirk. “But you know it won’t do the least bit of good to try to say something Sherlock. No one will believe you,” he said the last bit in sing song.

Sherlock was interrupted from replying as Mrs. Hudson called them to quiet down and begin class.

“So who can tell me what they thought of _The Sun Also Rises_?” she asked, peering around the classroom with her hands folded. “Lovely book wasn’t it?”

One girl in the front raised her hand and let out a blissful sigh.

“It was sooooooo romantic,” she said.

Sherlock snorted. “Well judging by the rumpled shirt you clearly wore overnight, I’d say your idea of one-night alcohol filled sex is not far off from Hemingway. So yes, perhaps you’d see a touch of ‘romance’ in such a notion. Hemingway continues to demonstrate to me the most crucial of ideas. Love is weakness. Jake Barnes is only weak because he allows himself to love Lady Brett Ashley and because he falls for the classic notion that a man’s only strength is in his penis rather than his brain. Were he to disavow himself of these ridiculous notions, the whole drama might have been cut rather short don’t you think?”

The girl turned around to shoot him a glare that he ignored.

“Well that’s understandable that a virgin might not understand the importance of sex,” Moriarty quipped with a grin to one of his cronies. “Feeling a little exposed through Jake’s story are we, Sherlock?”

“Oh do be quiet Jim!” Mrs. Hudson scolded.

The door opened and a familiar figure came scrambling in. Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked away. This particular boy had a habit, always the last one to class, often not coming at all. He knew little of the other boy, only that he seemed entirely disinterested in the educational system as a whole. Probably too focused on sports or drugs or something else. Sherlock honestly hadn’t spared the slightest deduction for him. It really didn’t seem worth his time.

Sherlock spared him only a cursory glance, taking in his messy blonde hair and glittering blue eyes, moving further down to his well fitted gray shirt, tight jeans, and combat boots paired with a camo jacket he had slung over his shoulder. After a few seconds he willed himself to look away. He wouldn’t allow aesthetic appreciation to sway him.

“What did I miss?” the boy asked from the doorway.

“Only the ridiculous and idiotic expectations which dictate our education system,” Sherlock muttered.

“Good,” the boy said before turning and disappearing back out the door.

“Oh John! John!” Mrs. Hudson cried, but it was too late as the door was already closing.

“Mrs. Hudson,” Moriarty said. “Is there any chance we could convince Sherlock to take his medication before class? Or has he just fallen too far out of reality and needs to be institutionalized?”

Sherlock shot him a sharp glare but said nothing. He kept picturing Mycroft’s cold gaze the last time he’d sent a student to the hospital. No, he was not going to allow himself to lose control. Not now. Not when he had his future in his sights.

“Jim!” Mrs. Hudson said chastisingly. “That’s quite enough!”

“I don’t see why we have to read this drivel anyways,” Sherlock muttered. “This whole class is a waste of time. I should be studying for chemistry right now.”

Mrs. Hudson frowned. “Sherlock, you can think what you like about literature, but there is no denying it has an affect on the world around us. Why without writing you would never have been able to catalogue our understanding of science. If you’d be quiet you might actually learn something.”

Sherlock just sighed. “Boring.”

Mrs. Hudson pursed her lips. “I might tolerate a little nonsense from you, Sherlock. But that is quite enough. Go to the office at once.”

“What?” Sherlock said, raising an eyebrow. It was rare for Mrs. Hudson to lose her temper, especially at him. She normally had all the self-control in the world. Understandable, given her background.

“Office,” she said with a wave of her hand, not even bothering to look at him.

Sherlock grabbed his things and went towards the door feeling his temper bubbling just below the surface of his skin. He made sure to give Moriarty a good shove as he left, hearing Mrs. Hudson’s clicks of disapproval as he went.

He entered the principal’s office with distaste. Vicky Perky, the vice principal, was sitting at her computer typing away. Sherlock had figured out from the moment he met her that she had a voracious sexual appetite, one she satisfied by writing erotic fiction (obvious enough from the romance books she kept in her desk drawers and the bruising on her wrists that was from her “extracurricular” activities).

“So,” she said, eyes never leaving the screen as he sat down. “I hear you were terrorizing Mrs. Hudson’s class…again.”

“Expressing my opinion,” Sherlock said, pursing his lips. “I hardly think that should amount to disciplinary action. Or has the school truly fallen into a totalitarian rule? Are we meant to be little mindless puppets repeating back the words of our teachers?”

She seemed to overlook the biting remarks. “The way you expressed your opinion to Henry Knight? By the way, his therapy is going quite well if you were curious.”

“I still maintain that he is clearly having delusions. Likely drug induced or perhaps just the usual case of schizophrenia,” Sherlock muttered. “My deductions were not the root cause.”

“Hmm,” Ms. Perky said. “The point is, Sherlock…that many people seem to think your opinions are…well…they believe it might be better if you…”

“Provided less information,” Sherlock said with a sigh.

“Piss off is the term I’ve heard most often,” she said with a fake smile. “You might want to work on that.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “As always, thank you for your _excellent_ guidance. I’ll allow you to return back to your fictional cocks and moaning virgins.”

He turned and stalked to the door without another word.

* * *

 

 

Moriarty had been scanning the schoolyard for a while. Though he hated to admit it, there was a certain curly head he was looking for. And to his disappointment, it wasn’t anywhere in sight. Perhaps the oh so famous Sherlock had been given a detention for his outburst in class then. Well, at least there was something.

However, one of his latest henchmen nudged him.

“Virgin alert,” he muttered.

Moriarty turned to look, half expecting Sherlock. After all, he’d spread the rumor himself of Sherlock’s famed virtue. Even if Moriarty already knew quite well how untrue it was.

However, instead of the younger Holmes brother, it was the adopted sister who walked by. Molly Holmes. He looked her over, taking in her lithe figure, long hair held back in a ponytail that was just begging to be pulled. And indeed, perhaps exuding an air of virginity. Beside her was Mary Morstan. He caught her eye and she glanced away, just the slightest bit of a blush rising on her cheeks.

“Hello beautiful ladies,” he purred with a half bow.

Molly glanced at him and flushed before letting out a nervous giggle and continuing on her way.

“I think she’s still out of your league,” the imbecile beside him said. “And there’s the matter of Sherlock and all.”

“Holmes is hardly of importance,” Moriarty sneered. “Even the Ice Man. I want her. And I’ll have her.”

After all, he enjoyed breaking pretty things. He always had. And if it was a pretty thing that might hurt Sherlock, all the better.

He caught sight of a new boy across the yard, practically ogling him. The half-wit looked to be nothing of consequence, so Moriarty thought little of paying him any attention. He fixed his sights on Molly and let the rest fade away. Strategies were already in the making, and he was sure soon he’d have the perfect trap.

* * *

 

 

Lestrade looked across the yard, noting a well-dressed boy who’d said something to Molly and her friend in passing. He might have mistaken the boy for an adult had he not been a school yard with his jacket and waistcoat and tie. Handsome and refined with dark glittering eyes that kept staring after Molly as she walked away.

“Who’s that?” he asked Donovan, nudging her and nodding towards the boy in the suit.

“Jim Moriarty,” Donovan said. “I’d stay away from him. Bad news. He…makes things happen.”

“What kind of things?” Lestrade asked with a frown.

Donovan sighed and looked towards him again. “Let’s just say…we’ve had students not come back to school who’ve pissed him off. Even buried one last year. Nothing proven of course. But…well you must understand how it looks.”

Lestrade shuddered. A teenage boy capable of acting like a mobster? It was hard to imagine.

His eyes strayed back to Molly. She was smiling, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He felt himself swallow, heart beating a little faster as he gazed at her.

“Look at her,” he said to Donovan. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”

Donovan rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you’re wasting your time.”

“You’re wrong about her,” Lestrade insisted. “She’s more than a pretty face. There’s something undeniably…warm about her. Friendly. Open. Welcome.”

“You ought to just wank and move on,” Donovan muttered. “It won’t happen.”

Lestrade shook his head. “No. You’re wrong. She’s…lovely.”

Donovan let out a deep breath and closed her eyes for a few seconds. After a moment she opened them again, appearing only a tad bit calmer.

“Fine, you want to try it? Then be my guest. She’s actually looking for a French tutor.”

Lestrade perked up. “Really? That’s perfect!”

“You speak French?” Donovan said in surprise.

“Well…no,” Lestrade admitted. “But…I will!”

Donovan rolled her eyes and turned away.

She went towards her car, pausing only when another vehicle practically ran into her.

“Watch it,” snapped a boy from the driver’s seat, icy blue eyes glaring at Donovan. “You might want to stop fucking Anderson, Donovan. It seems you’re unable to walk straight.”

Donovan gave him the middle finger before stepping out of his way so the car could continue in its course.

“Just a minor encounter with the freak,” Donovan muttered, glancing at Lestrade. “That’s your girlfriend’s brother.”

Lestrade’s jaw dropped open. He glanced back at the boy in the car, high cheekbones and scathing eyes all topped with dark curls. There was nothing remotely similar to Molly.

“Adopted,” Donovan clarified. “The Holmes’ family decided to take her in when her father died. Violet Holmes was an old friend of his. And then the Holmes parents died too. I swear, they’re cursed or something. Death just follows them everywhere.”

“Doubly orphaned?” Lestrade asked with a frown. “Are they in foster care or something?”

“There’s an elder brother who’s old enough to care for them. From what I’ve heard he’s the worst of the lot,” Donovan said. “And he’s the one who’s enforced a no dating rule for Molly and Sherlock both. I would steer clear of her if I were you. It’d only be trouble.”

Lestrade sighed and just looked away. He wasn’t willing to admit being wrong just yet. Not when he hadn’t tried anything.

Donovan shook her head and sighed. “Well, I’m off. I have more than enough homework to finish. But…I’ll see you tomorrow, sound good?”

“Really?”

“Really,” Donovan said with a half smile. “Someone has to keep you out of trouble.”

Lestrade smiled. His first real friend then.

“I’d like that,” he said with a smile. “Have a good night.”

She moved to her car and Lestrade walked back towards his.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock’s shock over the events of the day only culminated when he saw Molly getting into Moriarty’s car. He watched as she and Mary Morstan slid into the back seat and felt his fingers curl tighter on the steering wheel of his own vehicle. In the seat beside him, his best friend made a shocked noise.

“Well that’s a charming new development,” Irene Adler said, narrowing her eyes at the younger girls.

“It’s disgusting,” Sherlock muttered. “Using his charms to seduce them. Molly should be smarter than that. Mary too by my calculations.”

“Well, he is certainly playing the right part,” Irene said with a half-smile. “He knows how to work the Holmes family.”

Sherlock shot her a glare. “Shut up. It was years ago.”

“You were around her age,” Irene pointed out. “Still so young and innocent. Still a virgin by all accounts. Other than oral if I’m correct. You gave that to Victor the year before.”

“So glad someone’s keeping track of when I lost all my virginities,” Sherlock said with a roll of his eyes. “Should I start taking a count of yours Irene?”

She just smiled. “I have more than you since I don’t discriminate.”

“Only because you like sex,” Sherlock said with a snort. “At heart you’re as gay as I am.”

“Quite true,” Irene agreed. “Now, what’s your plan with your sister?”

“For now, watch and see where this development goes,” Sherlock said. “I’d hate to jump in too early. It’s likely just what Moriarty wants. Perhaps if I stay out of his way I’ll simply allow the relationship to fizzle out on its own.”

“Perhaps,” Irene said. “Or perhaps Jim will only escalate as he so often does.”

Sherlock just frowned. “Mycroft won’t approve anyways. You know he hates dating more than I do.”

“Well asexual aromantics usually do,” Irene said with a smile.

“I still think that deduction is absurd,” Sherlock muttered. “He has this secretary or something. I smelled her perfume on him last week.”

“Well, perhaps not then,” Irene said with a shrug. “Shows that denial doesn’t always last then, does it?” she gave him a pointed look.

“I have no interest in the disgusting and disappointing selection of males at our school,” Sherlock muttered. “Not all of us are willing to spread our legs for the slightest bit of attractiveness.”

Irene just rolled her eyes. “Well, perhaps once you’re off at your dance academy you’ll finely find someone.”

“Perhaps,” Sherlock muttered, though he knew already that it was unlikely. After all, there would be more important things to do than find a romantic relationship.

 He focused on his driving, letting Irene tell him the latest gossip. Whatever he couldn’t deduce, she could usually seduce. It created a valuable pool of information between the two of them. While he might mock her sexual exploits at times, they did come in handy. He let the information sink in before he pulled up to her door.

“Have a good night, Sherlock. I’ll text you later.”

He nodded and pulled away without another word, still picturing Molly in Jim Moriarty’s car. His jaw clenched and he did his best to focus on the road instead of images of what the older boy would probably try to do to his sister given the chance.

* * *

 

 

Mycroft wasn’t home yet, so he grabbed a chemistry book and settled down on the couch to read with a cigarette in his hand. He could hear music from Molly’s room and knew better than to even approach her when her door was closed. She’d either be absorbed in the latest Glee episode or studying for the next biology exam. Neither was a time to interrupt her.

He heard the door open and quickly put out the cigarette. He slid it into the trash before returning to his seat, doing his best to act nonchalant.

“Hello, Sherlock,” Mycroft said as he appeared in the doorway.

Sherlock didn’t look up, but he could see his brother sliding his umbrella into its stand and removing his coat to hang on a nearby hook. He moved quietly into the room, settling in an armchair near the empty fireplace.

“Made anyone cry today?” Mycroft asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Sherlock said. “But it’s only four thirty.”

“Enough time to create a little havoc then,” Mycroft said. He wrinkled his nose. “I thought we’d discussed smoking. If you must do it at least take it outside.”

“You’re not my father,” Sherlock muttered.

“No. Thank heavens for small mercies,” Mycroft said with a smirk. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care for your welfare.”

He sighed and pulled an envelope from his pocket. “This came for you in the mail by the way.”

Sherlock set his chemistry book aside and stood. He grabbed for the envelope without even pausing, staring at the words at the top.

_Reichenbach Dance Academy_.

He gasped and tore it open, hardly daring to contain his enthusiasm as he scanned the words.

“I’ve been accepted.”

Mycroft stared at him for a long moment. “I thought we’d agreed you’d leave this silly dancing nonsense aside once you were finished with school. Actually apply yourself to science or philosophy…or something more…practical.”

“No,” Sherlock said, glaring at him. “That was your decision, not mine. I wish to continue dancing. And I will if I want.”

“And where will your dancing take you, Sherlock? Really? Working in strip clubs with your ridiculous _skills_.”

Sherlock scowled and turned in time to see Molly in the doorway.

“Are you really going to just give up on doing anything with your life?” Molly asked, eyebrows furrowed. “But Mr. Stanford was telling me how well you do in his biology lab. He mentioned that you’d been talking about apiology. Or perhaps you’d find something in chemistry more suitable. Or even your violin to be honest. You’re quite good at that.”

Sherlock sent her a hard stare. It was in that moment he decided to end the Moriarty problem before it could even begin. He glanced at Molly before looking at Mycroft. “You’re getting slow. How have you not worked out that she took a ride home today?”

Mycroft just looked at him for a long moment and then said. “Don’t try to…” He paused and glanced back at Molly. “Who drove you home?”

Molly froze. “Oh…it’s just…there’s this…boy…”

Mycroft’s lips pursed. “Why am I not surprised? I don’t care for any other explanations. Sit down on the couch.”

Molly’s lower lip trembled slightly, but she sat, folding her hands in her lap. Sherlock looked up at Mycroft, waiting for the hammer to fall.

“What are the two house rules?” he said, fixing Molly with a harsh stare. “No crimes will be committed while under my roof. And neither of you will date until you are finished with your schooling.”

“It’s unfair,” Molly said, folding her arms. “In many societies I’d be considered a woman by now. I should have the rights to choose whether or not I date. Once I graduate I’m going to be a complete wreck not having gotten all of the awkward first time nonsense out of the way. I’m likely the only person in the school who’s not currently dating.”

“No you’re not,” Mycroft said, folding his arms. “Sherlock doesn’t date.”

“And I don’t intend to,” Sherlock said with an eye roll.

“And why is that again?”

Sherlock smiled. “Have you seen the idiots who attend our school?”

Molly just looked at him and sighed. She looked up at Mycroft again, though it was clear she had no real defense to offer.

Mycroft froze. Sherlock could see the cogs turning in his mind, clearly working on a thought.

“No.” He shook his head. “I’m making a new rule. You may date, Molly.”

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest.

“You may date,” Mycroft said before smiling, “when Sherlock does.”

Molly stared at him for a long moment. “What?”

“When Sherlock begins dating, you may do so also,” Mycroft repeated with a slow smile. He turned towards the door, obviously feeling their business was done.

“He’s…abnormal. What if he never dates?” Molly asked, voice rising another octave as she stared at her older brother.

“Then you’ll never date,” Mycroft said. “Now those are words I enjoy hearing. Perhaps you’ll learn the Holmes lesson, Molly. Love is weakness. It’s foolish to believe otherwise.”

His mobile beeped. He looked down at the screen and frowned.

 “We’ll discuss the dance academy later.”

Molly turned to stare at Sherlock fiercely, waiting until the door closed again before speaking.

“I cannot believe you right now. My first chance to possibly have a boyfriend and you mess everything up.”

Sherlock rose, snapping his chemistry book closed and grabbing his acceptance letter.

“Apologies. It looks as though your dates with Jim Moriarty are canceled. You’ll just have to find another psychopath to entertain yourself with.”

Molly just shook her head before making for the doorway. “You spoil everything!” she snapped over her shoulder before she disappeared.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and ignored her. She’d learn in time. She was young and untried. But given a few years she’d know as well as Sherlock did that love only destroyed.

* * *

 

 

Molly hadn’t really anticipated finding a French tutor quite so quickly. But Mary Morstan caught her in the hall.

“That new boy…Greg or whatever his name is,” Mary said, “he’s apparently very good at French. He’s been telling everyone that his father is French. Gives him his French last name or whatever.”

Molly had to admit, she’d anticipated a longer hunt, but this made things easy.

“Perfect!” she said.

She’d used his school email. Contacting him to set up the meeting. And he responded five minutes later to say that he’d be delighted to meet her over lunch to begin working with her. Perfect, finally she’d have her second language straightened out and actually make the grades she wanted. Third language. She was forgetting Latin. But Latin didn’t involve speaking. Especially speaking with growling noises and strange formations of the mouth that didn’t suit her usual English pronunciation.

He was sitting at a table in the library when she’d come in. She smiled a little when she saw him.

Greg Lestrade was undeniably attractive. Dark tousled hair and deep brown eyes and a distinguished jawline. He looked athletic, though perhaps not overly so in a way that made Molly concerned he might only be worried about his body. He was fiddling with a French book.

Molly walked over and plopped herself down into a chair.

“Hello,” she said with a small smile. “If you don’t mind making this quick…er some friends of mine—”

“Not at all,” he said, cutting her off before she could add she needed to go over notes before biology lab. She smiled and let him continue, noting that his hands were shaking a little.

“Er…I thought we could start with pronunciation…” he said.

Molly sighed. “My weak point unfortunately. Could that wait? I wouldn’t mind covering the verb conjugations again if it wouldn’t be any trouble. Unless you don’t have time or…”

“Er…could be tricky,” he said, shifting in his seat. “But…we could set another meeting…”

“That might work better,” Molly said. “I’m sorry, I know this was last minute.”

“Oh well,” Lestrade ducked his head. “We could get together on Saturday.”

“Saturday?” Molly said with a frown.

“Yeah there’s this great restaurant I’ve been wanting to try… and we could…you know…eat and maybe…study?”

Molly stared at him as she processed. “Wait…are you…asking me out?”

Lestrade’s eyes widened. “I’m…” he stammered. “Er…maybe…?”

Molly was unable to keep a smile at bay. The way he was looking at her, so pleading and puppy-like was simply adorable. Her heartbeat quickened a little. It was nice to feel wanted.

“That’s so sweet!” she said.

“Really?” the boy said, sitting up a little straighter. “I know your brother doesn’t really let you date. But I thought if it was for class…”

“Actually,” Molly said, reaching to brush a lock of hair out of her face. “Actually he’s gotten rid of the old rule. I can date when my brother Sherlock does.”

She did her best to keep her tone steady, even as she felt some level of despair start sinking in. She truly didn’t know if that would do her any good. Sherlock might turn out exactly like Mycroft and never find anyone.

“That’s great!” the boy chimed in before she could say anything else. “Well maybe you’d prefer something other than dinner then…I know of a great place to go if you’re interested in—”

Molly held up her hand. “Il y a un problème.”

He tilted his head, and she elaborated.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, my brother is…well…” she sighed. “Difficult.”

“Yeah I’d noticed he’s a little…antisocial. Er…do you know why that is?”

Molly sighed and shook her head. She remembered back to the years when their parents were alive. Sherlock had been…different. So carefree and happy and loving. Willing to do things with her, curl up beside her when she had nightmares, make a blanket fort in his room. She was stuck in nostalgia for a few moments before she shook herself out of it.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “Theories abound you must understand, but I don’t know for certain. Most just think he became tired of being a decent person….”

Lestrade nodded emphatically. “True, true. But…I’m sure there are girls who’d be into that. After all, there’s this moody vampire thing that’s so popular amongst a lot of teenagers. How far off could your sulky older brother be?”

Molly tilted her head. “You think so?”

“Sure!” Lestrade said.

“Well…there is one problem,” Molly said. “Er…I suspect the girls would be…problematic. I’m not…he’s never told me directly…but there’ve been rumors and it wouldn’t surprise me if…well I think he’s probably gay.”

Lestrade blinked a few times and then nodded. “Oh. Well even better. I mean guys are more willing to put up with fellow guys being dicks. And your brother’s attractive and…I mean there’s probably guys who’d find all that hostility really kinky.”

“A danger kink?” Molly joked. “Unlikely. But if you’re so confident you can find it…”

“I bet I could!’ Lestrade said with a wide grin. He seemed to sober quickly. “I mean…I could try.”

Molly smiled at him and nodded. Well, perhaps there was hope for the Sherlock problem after all. Perhaps it might kill two birds with one stone. Open up the possibility to date Jim, and perhaps bring Sherlock some happiness again.

She thanked him again for the lesson, even though it had been brief. She grabbed her things and headed for her lab, thinking only that the future was looking a little brighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some really great feedback and am feeling inspired to keep going so far. Please keep up the comments if you're enjoying this! Positivity from my readers truly makes or breaks a fic for me. Anyhow, thanks again to all of you! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Comments keep me going!
> 
> Also warnings for mentions of non-con....nothing graphic but definitely hints of that idea if that bothers you... might be other things too but I can't think of anything. Let me know if you spot something you think needs a warning!

 

Lestrade had divulged the plan seconds after he’d left the library. The moment he saw Donovan he had opened his mouth and spilled.

“You’re joking,” Donovan said, raising an eyebrow.

“No, she actually said she’s allowed to date!” Lestrade said. “Molly said so!”

“No,” Donovan said, folding her arms. “I meant that you’re obviously off your rocker if you think that you can find someone willing to date Sherlock Holmes.”

Lestrade reached up to rub the back of his neck.

“Er…yeah…maybe that’s a bit…difficult. But he’s…well not bad looking for a bloke. I can’t imagine there aren’t guys out there who’d be willing to do him?”

Donovan raised one solitary eyebrow. “You make this sound simple. This is not only an issue of finding another boy interested and willing to be in a homosexual relationship…but also one who is willing to put up with the freak…the most obnoxious and callous and rude person in the entire school. On top of that, Sherlock Holmes hasn’t dated. Ever. And suddenly you just expect him to change?”

“You’re sure?” Lestrade asked, feeling his heart sinking. Maybe he’d been wrong to think this was possible.

Donovan sighed. “Give me a day and we’ll test this theory. All right? It may be idiotic, but I’ve always thought the freak might be a little more agreeable if one were to…well…get him laid.”

“Good,” Lestrade said with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll find something. There has to be some bloke crazy enough in this school to date Sherlock.”

* * *

 

 

By lunch hour of the next day, Donovan nudged him on the way to the cafeteria and instead motioned towards the back of the school. Lestrade followed her down to a small dead-ended hallway in the basement. Five boys were waiting for them.

Lestrade eyed the various unfamiliar faces in the half-shadows. A scruffy looking boy with red-rimmed eyes and unkempt clothing. His exact opposite in a tailored suit with uptight posture. A more pudgy fellow with fingers rattling along his knee as he twitched impatiently. A man with a full beard who looked like he belonged on a wanted sign rather than in a high school. Finally Lestrade’s gaze settled on an attractive looking fellow in the corner. Arms folded over his chest, but still looking curious and interested.

“So,” Donovan said, sauntering into the room with some kind of additional confidence in her bearing. Lestrade had to admit, she had a presence about her, and every boy snapped to attention as she appeared.

“So,” Donovan repeated, “who’s interested in dating Sherlock Holmes?”

The silence ended.

The attractive looking fellow stood immediately and brushed past Donovan. She caught his arm.

“Oh dear lord Dimmock, you’re really that afraid of him?” Donovan asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Of Holmes?” the attractive boy—Dimmock responded. “You must be joking, Sally. You and I both know what he’s capable of. I’m not interested in further drama. No thank you.”

She released him and he disappeared. Lestrade sighed and leveled his gaze back at the remaining contenders. They all looked a little unsettled, but hadn’t moved otherwise.

The bearded man spoke, his gruff voice ringing with a strong accent….Italian perhaps? “While I admit I may like Sherlock more than most, even I will say I’m not sure he’d make the ideal…date.”

“So the boy who convinced the school you weren’t actually selling drugs isn’t someone you’re interested in?” Donovan asked, folding her arms. “Seems like you two get along fairly well all things considered. Even if to do so he mention that you were really busy hacking into teachers accounts to correct the grades your customers received on their exams.”

“Sherlock has indeed helped me much,” the man admitted. “But it is for that reason I have no interest in getting on his bad side. And to suggest…well… I do not think he’d take kindly to it. It has been some time since I’ve seen any male in his company.”

Lestrade brightened. “But you have seen him with boys before?” he asked. “You know he’s gay, and he’s dated before?”

The man snorted. “Perhaps. It is difficult to say with Sherlock. Very…private…that one.”

Lestrade sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair.

Donovan looked to the next boy. “What about you, Sebastian?”

The boy in the suit shrugged. “I’ve occasionally done a bloke. But only for sex. I can’t risk my reputation with something so public as dating I’m afraid. And certainly not with someone so…freakish.”

Donovan pursed her lips.

The unkempt boy spoke next. “E’s not someone I’d be messing with. Right wanker that one. But…perhaps if you’d be able to pay the Wig…”

“I’m not providing you with any drugs, Billy,” Sally said firmly. “As though I could afford that on my record.”

“I don’t really think Sherlock would…well be interested in someone like him anyways…” Lestrade said.

Donovan glanced at him. “Oh Sherlock Holmes might be uptight but everyone knows that if not for his big brother’s cover ups, he’d likely have been in trouble with all the drugs.”

“Sherlock Holmes…a  junkie?” Lestrade said. He did his best to not let his jaw drop right open.

“Of course,” Sally said. “No one’s perfect, correct? Been clean a while I believe. But he was gone a few months last year for rehab. Everyone knows it.”

Lestrade eyed Billy. “So maybe…”

“Er…I’m not sure anyhow,” Billy said slumping a little. “Sure you don’t got nothing on you?”

“Bye Billy,” Donovan said with a sigh.

Lestrade looked at the last candidate. The chubby boy who looked up at Donovan and gave a smile.

“What about you?” Lestrade asked.

“I wouldn’t mind a little time with that nice arse,” the boy said with a grin.

“Yeah?” Lestrade said, perking up at the mention. “You er…go for that kind of thing?”

“Every now and again,” the boy said. “And someone like Sherlock…I like a challenge.”

“Perfect,” Lestrade said.

Sally grabbed his arm. “Er…on second thought…we might just find a different—”

The boy had pulled something out of his pocket. “What’s his weight would you say? I’d hate to overdo it.”

Lestrade stared down at a vial in his hands. The boy had also pulled a syringe from his coat pocket and was studying them both. “Er…what’s that for?”

“Oh I like them a little more pliant when I do them,” the boy said eyes glittering. “Let’s me do exactly what I want.”

He had to keep himself from recoiling. Donovan’s hand tightened on his arm, and Lestrade did his best to simply nod and keep his face from showing his horror.

“I think…we’ll try a different approach,” Lestrade said after a moment, his voice coming out more choked than he had been expecting. “You…er…we won’t be needing your help.”

The boy frowned, needle glinting as he turned it in his hand. “I’m happy to be of service. Life’s short. Wouldn’t mind a little more action.”

“No,” Lestrade said, unable to keep himself from coughing to keep himself from saying anything rash. Not when this crazy had a needle ready to be used on some kind of nasty drugs.

Donovan was half dragging him out of the hallway. Lestrade ended up running after her, out of breath by the time they were back in the main corridors.

“I cannot believe you actually thought we’d find someone,” Donovan muttered. “Those were the only people I could dig up in this whole school…half of them crazy and the others…” she shook her head.

“There has to be someone,” Lestrade argued. “It’s a big school. I mean...I think crazy might be sort of our ticket you know…just not…criminal.”

“There’s no one crazy enough to date Sherlock Holmes,” Donovan said. “Even the ones who are loony enough still weren’t interested in dating him…just…” she tilted her head and sighed. “Well you get the idea.”

“Well perhaps that’s just how men are,” Lestrade said with a shrug. “Just want the sex and nothing else.”

Donovan stared at him for a long moment. “And people wonder why I’m interested in women.” She strode down the hallway towards their next class. “And I thought your intentions for Molly were all good and pure?”

Lestrade flushed and ran a hand through his hair. “Er…well…it couldn’t hurt, right?”

That set off a series of images of Molly in various states of undress. He quickly had to clear his mind before any problems might arise. He groaned and refocused on the hallway in time to see Sherlock Holmes marching by with a young woman at his side.

She was lovely. Dark hair piled high on her hair. Fine features and bright eyes. Her dress showed off her curves and she was wearing almost three inch heels. He swallowed.

“Who’s that?” Lestrade hissed at Donovan.

Donovan glanced in Holmes’ direction and frowned.

“Irene Adler.”

“She seems cozy with him,” Lestrade commented.

“She’s cozy with everyone,” Donovan sighed and continued walking.

“You’re saying she’s a slut?” Lestrade asked.

Donovan turned and stared at him. “Don’t ever say that again. Firstly because that’s not even fair. Honestly, if you told me a guy had a lot of sex I wouldn’t call him a slut. And secondly, because Irene Adler is not someone you mess with. And though I doubt she’d see the word slut as a true insult…she might…find a way to make you pay for it.”

Lestrade frowned. “All right, but what about her and Holmes?”

“Holmes is gay, we’ve established that. For a while it seemed like Adler had her sights on him, but she’s backed off on all that. She turned up naked in a class one day.”

“What?” Lestrade balked, again doing his best not to imagine in too much detail.

“Yes,” Donovan said. “Got out of any punishment for it too…said that someone had told her they were going to be doing figure drawing and needed nude models…had texts and everything to back it up too. But then of course…the rumor was she’s doing a few of the members of the staff. Wouldn’t really surprise me to be honest.”

Lestrade just stared. It wasn’t every day you saw a girl like that.

“And Holmes just…befriended her?”

“Seems so,” Donovan said. “Spoke up on her behalf. Trust me, most of the school thought they were shagging for a while. But from all I’ve seen it’s a friendship built on some sort of mutual respect.”

Lestrade was about to reply, but a bell rang before he could. He glanced once more at Irene Adler, catching her gaze as he began walking towards the doorway leading to his next class. She smirked as she caught him looking, winking once before she turned back to Sherlock. He swallowed and turned his attention back to heading to biology.

Once inside he and Donovan settled at a lab table and waited for instructions on frog dissection. Lestrade sighed and tried his best to focus, even as he began to think. Was there any possible means of getting Sherlock a date so he could take Molly out?

Again he began to picture dating her. Perhaps sitting at a café table both steadily eating even as Molly beamed up at him. Or going to the movies and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. Going on a picnic and lying close together on a blanket. Her smile, her laugh, her sparkling eyes. All of it was so clear to him.

As he began trying to focus on dissecting his frog, he noted something going on a few tables away from him.

Donovan sighed as she pushed the scalpel a little deeper. “Did I or did I not say that no one would go out with him?” she said with a frown.

The boy a table behind her had pulled out a switchblade and was cutting through the soft flesh of the frog’s belly. He then moved to switch on one of the gas lines and lit it before running the fire along the sides of his blade. Lestrade felt his jaw drop.

“What about him?” he said, motioning in the general direction.

Donovan glanced back and her eyes widened.

“Don’t even look at him,” she muttered.

“Why not?” Lestrade asked. “He’s perfect.”

The boy had turned to glare at his lab partner who had swiftly turned off the gas.

“He supposedly faked paperwork and went to join the army,” Donovan hissed. “Even though he wasn’t eighteen. Was gone for a full year. Came back with a limp and a scar and everything.”

“A year in the army?” Lestrade said. “Well at least he should be horny.”

Donovan reached over to deliver a slap to his arm.

“I’m serious. He’s…off.”

“He’s our guy,” Lestrade said. “I mean…at least let’s hope he’s gay. But if so then we’re golden.”

“Have you never heard of the Kinsey Scale?” Donovan said. She finally just sighed and shook her head. “Never mind. Now’s not the time for a gender studies lesson. We’ll save it for another day…because you’re definitely going to need it. For now let’s just point out that this is a terrible idea. You don’t even know half the rumors about Watson.”

“I know enough to know that he’s the one,” Lestrade said.

He could barely keep his voice from rising in tone, barely able to contain what he was feeling. He grinned and did his best not to stare too long at the boy across the room. Still, the very sight of this person had visions of Molly dancing through his head. He was one step closer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry folks. Long wait I know. I moved to another country and then was preoccupied with adjusting to life there and um now I have a girlfriend… it’s just been a lot. No judgement if you unfollow. Trust me I’ve done it before.
> 
> Reminder as well…if you haven’t seen the movie 10 Things I Hate About You…you might miss references. I’m not saying you need to, but might be difficult without.

Lestrade knew this was necessary, but that didn’t mean his heart wasn’t beating crazy fast as he walked towards Watson. Donovan was just a few steps behind, but even she looked apprehensive.

He did his best to keep a smile on his face as he walked forward, noting that Watson had a particularly sharp tool in his hand, and was glaring daggers in his direction.

“Um…hello,” he said. “I was just wondering if you’d…”

Lestrade was forced to stop talking when he felt the point of the drill suddenly on his textbook. He watched in surprise as the other boy kept drilling, staring into his eyes the entire time.

“Er… I’ll just…” he turned and hurried backwards without another word, Donovan right behind him.

“Told you, complete whacko,” Donovan muttered. “So ready to give up now are you?”

Lestrade sighed. He looked Donovan in the eye. “No other ideas? Cause this is hopeless.”

Donovan eyed the hole in his book, shaking her head.

“I mean…if we…paid him or something?” Lestrade suddenly said. “Could be motivation right? He’s…not really very posh looking. Gotta need some money, right?”

Donovan sighed.

“I mean I know we don’t have any money really either,” Lestrade pointed out with a frown. “But…hey it’s an idea.”

Donovan rubbed at her temple and finally looked at him.

“It’s crazy…but…” she paused and pursed her lips. “God, I would never suggest this ever but… we need a backer.”

“A backer?” Lestrade asked, rubbing a hand through his hair.

“Someone…with money…and motive.”

* * *

 

 

Moriarty leaned back in his chair and watched as yet another drug deal passed in the far corner of the cafeteria. Just fine. More information for him. Easier targets. He smirked and brushed at his cuffs to ensure all lingering crumbs had disappeared.

As he looked up, he realized someone was headed towards his table. Not someone he would have accepted.

“Mind letting me talk for a minute?” the girl asked, crossing her arms as she stared at him.

“I don’t believe we talk, Donovan,” Moriarty sneered. “What makes you suddenly think we should start now?”

“Have an idea for you,” the girl said. She nodded at the empty seat beside him.

Moriarty frowned, but nonetheless gestured for her to have a seat. He watched her every movement. He’d been keeping an eye on Donovan for a while. She didn’t particularly interest him, but she clearly was smart and disliked him. Someone to at least keep in his peripheral if nothing else.

“What’s your idea?” Moriarty said with a sigh, leaning back. “Come now, be quick about it.”

“I’d been thinking…”

“Oh had you,” he said with a smirk. “Hurry it up. I’m getting bored already.”

He faked a yawn, smirking as he noted the way her jaw tightened.

Her eyes narrowed. “It’s about Molly Holmes if you must know.”

Moriarty straightened. “I’m listening.”

“You want to date her. It’s very simple. Sherlock gets a date, you get to date Molly. Quite simple as that. Pay someone to take out Sherlock. She’s yours after that.”

It was difficult to keep his smile at bay, but somehow he managed. “Oh, so simple. And who do you propose I have date Sherlock? Not such an easy match now is it?”

“Him,” Donovan said, nodding across the way.

He scanned over the crowd, noting no one of real interest until at long last his gaze settled on John Watson. Oh. Oh that was interesting. Quite good in fact.

“Perhaps you have a point,” Moriarty said softly. “But I’m guessing you want something for the information.”

Donovan’s eyes glittered. “Oh certainly. Stay away from my grades.”

Moriarty smirked. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“I know when the system’s been played with,” Donovan said. “I’m not an idiot. You leave my grades alone. I gave you a useful tip.”

She stood and reached out a hand. For a moment Moriarty considered biting it. He pictured breaking that soft looking skin and watching blood run down. Tempting indeed.

Instead he smiled and took it in his own, giving a firm shake.

“It’s a deal.”

He watched as she stood and pulled away, eyes drifting over her body and thinking of all the horrible things he could do to it. After a moment he turned away and looked back at the table. He pulled a knife out of his pocket and slid the tip of the blade into the smooth surface of the table. Moriarty watched and smiled as he created the soft curves of a woman’s body.

“Pass me your red pen,” he said to the boy next to him.

By the time he was done, he was smiling even more as he walked away from the table, wondering if tomorrow the naked corpse would be painted over or if they’d simply have to remove the table all together.

* * *

 

 

“What are you getting him involved for!” Lestrade hissed as soon as Donovan had passed out of the cafeteria.

She turned to look at him, admiring the half-panicked expression, the way his hair was sticking out that let her know he’d been running his hands through it one too many times. Boys. Honestly.

“You will thank me later,” Donovan said with a wave of her hand. “Trust me, Moriarty is the best person for it. He’s got personal interest and enough money and influence to get this done. And besides, while he’s making the setups with Watson…you’ll have more time to woo your woman.”

Lestrade paused, mouth still half open. Donovan watched as his eyes roamed over the ground before his jaw snapped shut.

“Okay, okay yes that’s a fair point.”

“Thank you,” Donovan said with an eye roll. She patted his shoulder. “So trust me next time. I’m smarter than that.”

“Just thought you said not to get involved with Moriarty is all,” Lestrade muttered.

“It’s my last year here,” Donovan said. “My hope is the next time I see James Moriarty I’ll be putting the handcuffs on him. Screw it, I want justice. If tricking him into helping us can give me some satisfaction…I’ll take it.”

Lestrade was silent for a long moment and then he smiled.

“Okay, yeah. I’m down for that.”

“Good,” Donovan said. “Now you go and enjoy shagging Molly Hooper while I take care of this for you, hmm?”

She watched his face start turning red, but she walked away before he could make his excuses. Better than an admission of guilt right there. Donovan smirked and shook her head. Well, if this situation wouldn’t provide her with any action, maybe she could at least live vicariously through Lestrade and his little fling.

* * *

 

 

John wasn’t even sure why he’d decided to spend time in the sports hall. He was sitting on the bleachers, thinking about all the work he’d have to do for school once he arrived home. Sure, his nonchalant attitude was fun to try on the teachers and made him quite the legend around his fellow students, but he was determined to actually finish his schooling. After all, it would take more if he ever wanted to become a doctor.

He sank back on his elbows, eyes scanning over the various social groups. The preppy girls who were there to watch a few boys showing off with a basketball. And then the small dance troupe that had assembled in one corner.

His eyes caught on Sherlock Holmes, noting the lithe muscles of his chest and legs, the flexible way he bent to touch his toes.

John forced his gaze elsewhere. Being gay wasn’t really an issue. He’d watched Harry go off the deep end with her lack of self-acceptance and he was determined to not follow suit. However, that didn’t mean he needed to make a point of staring.

His train of thought was interrupted by the sight of Jim Moriarty stalking towards him, a malicious looking smile on his face. John straightened, his fingers twitching towards his pocket, picturing them curled around his knife.

“Watson,” Moriarty purred. “Not every day we see you here.”

“No. Prefer my own company, thanks,” John said.

“Got an offer for you,” Moriarty said. “What do you say to taking out the ever lovely Sherlock Holmes?”

John blinked a few times, almost certain he’d misheard.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Moriarty said with a smirk. “Sherlock Holmes. Look at him. Nice body. Think you might enjoy getting acquainted with that.”

John’s jaw clenched. “I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m not interested in playing your games.”

He got up to leave when he heard a strange noise.

He turned back to see Moriarty holding out his phone, a video playing on it. John swallowed as he watched Harry’s figure on the screen. It only took a few seconds of viewing before he realized what it was. His fingers curled into fists.

“Want this video to go public, Watson?”

“What do you want, Moriarty?”

“As I asked, date Sherlock Holmes. Might even make it worth your while. Sure the bills are stacking up with Harriet. Could probably use some extra money.”

John looked the other boy over, wondering how easy it would be to punch him in the nose, kick him in the shin and then watch him topple to the ground. Too easy. But he was trying to do better this year. Fewer fights. Less drama. More focus on his studies.

“And what do I have to do for it?” John said, gritting his teeth.

“Take Sherlock Holmes on a date,” Moriarty said. “Should be simple enough. Get him to spread his legs if you’d like. I could care less. But the main thing is I need him out of the picture so I can have Molly Holmes.”

John considered. It was true that money was tight. And that video being released, well that would do no good either.

“Fine,” John muttered. “Fine. I’ll take him on a date.”

He put out his palm and waited. Sure enough, five twenty pounds were placed neatly in his hand. He crumpled them up and shoved them into a pocket.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” he muttered, before turning and heading in the direction of the dance group.

If he’d admired from a distance, it was even easier to do up close. The lines of muscle as Holmes bent slightly, the slight flash of skin where his shirt rode up. Well, this wouldn’t be a chore by any means.

He waited until Sherlock was finished with his stretches. The other boy came over to grab for a bottle of water.

“Hello,” he said, putting on his most charming smile. “How’s it going?”

He watched Sherlock’s eyes scan over his face, then his usually stony expression morph into an unexpected smile.

“Dealing with a high level of perspiration at the moment. And yourself?”

“Now there’s a way to get a guy’s attention,” John said with a wink.

Sherlock continued to smile. “So Afghanistan or Iraq?”

It was difficult to maintain composure, but John did his best to not let his smile disengage.

“What do you mean?”

One dark eyebrow arched up and a corner of Holmes’s mouth twitched.

“I’m not an idiot like the rest of the student population. I know you didn’t sneak off to fight a war. So I suppose it would be more accurate to ask where you were in the country. Because clearly you didn’t leave England.”

John watched as Sherlock turned and stalked away.

“Er… can I take you to dinner this weekend?” he tried as a last attempt.

“So I can finish deducing all your secrets? I think not,” Sherlock replied.

“I’ll take you somewhere different,” John said, taking a few quicker strides to catch up with the taller boy. “I’ll…show you a good time.” He let his voice drop a little lower, trying to make his meaning clear.

“Highly doubtful,” Sherlock muttered. “Do you even know my name?”

John froze. He watched Sherlock’s back as he kept walking.

“Know more than you think actually,” he said. “‘I’m not stupid you know,” he muttered under his breath.

“Where do you get that idea?” Sherlock called back over his shoulder.

John did his best not to scowl at Holmes’s retreating form. Part of him thought about just going to Moriarty and handing back the money. Tempting certainly, but he wasn’t done yet.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, should be obvious by now but I'll say for any new readers this was started pre season 4 so not compliant with current cannon. 
> 
> Sorry for the long wait. I'm doing a lot to try to keep my writing up, so hopefully updates will be more frequent from here on out...no promises though.

Sherlock was trying to figure out a logical reason why Watson would even come talk with him. His mind wandered to the possibility of sexual appeal as the boy had seemed to indicate. Perhaps that was it then. Perhaps Watson merely was in need of some sexual release and saw Sherlock as an ideal vessel.

He struggled to piece it together still as he worked through his classes, and was still pondering when he went to meet Irene after school was finished.

“You look troubled,” she noted as he slid into the car.

“Perhaps,” Sherlock said with a sigh.

“What is it this time?” Irene asked, eyes sparkling. “I sense something of intrigue in the way you’re frowning. More trouble with dear old Jim?”

He sighed and looked into the parking lot. His eyes strayed over the figure of a girl a year younger than him. Just a quick scan provided him with all the deductions he needed. From her clothing he could know that her parents were getting a divorce. From her hair he could see that she was currently seeing two boys. It wasn’t all that hard to parse out.

Watson himself was actually quite easy to deduce. A glance over him was enough to confirm the ridiculous rumors of his classmates were false. It didn’t take long to have him completely unraveled. All his secrets. All his mystery.

However, the flirting… it was out of character. And Sherlock didn’t like it. There wasn’t a logical reason behind it. They’d been together in school for months now and Watson had never showed a speck of interest. And suddenly he was over asking for a date.

“I was asked out,” Sherlock muttered. “More your area of expertise I’d say…judging by the lipstick stain on the collar of your dress I’d say you and Kate had a nice time this afternoon.”

Irene smirked. “Oh we did. I can give you all those details later. For now, however, I want my own. Who asked you out? And what did you say?”

“No of course,” Sherlock muttered. “Pray tell, why would I say yes?”

“Depends who it was,” Irene said with a shrug. “So tell me. What hunk… well I shouldn’t presume it was a man I suppose. Who is seeking the heart of Sherlock Holmes this time?”

“A fruitless search I assure you,” Sherlock muttered.

He hoped she might drop it at that, however, her gaze remained fixed on him.

He let out a sigh. “John Watson if you must know.”

Her eyes went wide for a moment before she smiled again. He could practically see her thoughts running wild. Most likely conjuring smutty imaginings up he supposed.

“Oh that is good,” she said. “Very good.”

“Very good why?” Sherlock asked. “I still don’t see what reason he’d have to… come on to me… as you might say.”

“Oh Sherlock darling, as though men wouldn’t have good reasons to come on you… excuse me… come on to you. Have you looked in a mirror recently?”

“You know that beauty is a social construct,” Sherlock huffed. “Honestly, Irene I thought I’d convinced you on that.”

She smirked. “Oh some. However, by society’s standards you’re quite attractive. Those brooding eyes, sharp cheekbones, dark hair that is just perfect for grabbing and pulling.” She winked and looked back to the front window again, her smile growing wider by the second.

“Well regardless it makes no sense,” Sherlock muttered. “He didn’t show the slightest interest in me until today.”

“You’re just offended because you’ve been eying him for months now,” Irene said. “Sad he took so long to notice you, Sherlock?”

“I can admire a man’s strength in saying no to the system,” Sherlock muttered. “And… admittedly he might have a few nice qualities. However, that doesn’t mean I’m going to accept his ridiculous proposal. For the moment I need to focus on finishing school, working on my dancing.”

Irene rolled her eyes. “Be stubborn. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’re a catch, Sherlock. Whether you realize it or not. And come now, wouldn’t it be nice to let loose a little for once? Enjoy yourself?”

Sherlock’s jaw clenched. “I’m not interested.”

Irene shrugged as she finally turned on the car and started off out of the parking lot.

“All I’m saying is you could use some enjoyment in your life,” Irene said with a sigh. “God knows I could at least, and I have far more fun than you. A boyfriend might be just the thing you need.”

“Who’d want me for a boyfriend,” Sherlock muttered.

“John Watson apparently,” she said with another smirk.

 His glare shut her up, but even as she kept silent, he felt her eyes on him. Sherlock did his best to focus on looking out the window, but even he couldn’t deny that the events of the day were too interesting not to think about at least a little.

* * *

 

 

Molly noticed there was something off about Sherlock the moment he walked in through the door. Well, not to say she hadn’t seen plenty of hostility from him in the past, but she could see the tension in his shoulders. The way he carried himself tighter than normal, not the usual grace his dancer’s body required.

She went over and sat down in one of the armchairs as he sank onto the couch.

“Good day?” she asked, trying her best to keep her tone light and casual.

“Better than yours,” Sherlock muttered.

“My day was perfectly fine, actually,” Molly said, though she figured he’d somehow deduced her lower marks on her French exam. It was a pity the tutoring hadn’t helped more. “What about yours?”

“Adequate as well.”

Sherlock slid a hand over his eyes and leaned back on the couch.

Molly swallowed and looked him over. She wished she had the same skills as he and Mycroft. Deduction really did seem like a handy tool at times.

“So what’s wrong? Trouble with Mrs. Hudson again? Or is it still this nonsense about dance school?” she said, hoping one of her guesses was close.

“Mrs. Hudson’s class was acceptable today as we spent the majority of it taking a test on the Elizabethan era. Quite simple with facts of course, so black and white. And as for the problems with Mycroft, well he’ll eventually have to accept that he is not and never will be our father. And that I will make my own life decisions and there is nothing he can do about it.”

Molly frowned. “Oh. So…something else then?”

Sherlock turned away from her, but she could see his face twisting uncomfortably. What could he possibly be avoiding?

“Not in trouble again, are you? Please say we’re not going to have to send you to rehab again.”

She tried to keep her voice steady, even as it shook slightly. Her mind took a turn to two years before. Hospital rooms and Sherlock’s prone body. She shook her head to clear the memories away. God, she didn’t want to remember that.

Sherlock sighed. “No. I’m clean. For the moment.”

“Other than all the cigarettes,” Molly said, wrinkling her nose. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

If he heard her he pretended not to. Molly sighed and looked him over again.

“Is it… something to do with… well…” she hesitated. She thought back to the other day when she’d talked with her tutor and he’d mentioned that Sherlock could find a guy. That plenty would find his behavior attractive. Could it be possible?

“Is it a guy?” Molly asked.

She didn’t think Sherlock had ever explicitly told her, but did it matter? Everything about him made it rather obvious.

However, as he straightened up, eyes narrowing, she wondered if she’d misjudged.

“Whatever gives you that idea?” he muttered. “Watching too much trash telly, eh Molly?”

“I just…you’re behaving oddly,” she said. “I just…was curious.”

“Well worry about yourself. You’ll strain that mind of yours overthinking everything,” he snapped. “I’m going out. I’ll be back later.”

He stood and walked to the front door. She sat there and listened until she heard the telltale slam and then heavy footsteps on the front porch. The start of a car engine let her know he truly was leaving. She sighed and sank back into the chair as she listened as the car drove further away. Well, so much for that.

* * *

 

 

Sherlock spent the next day trying to avoid his sister. He wasn’t sure how she’d figured things out, but he wasn’t pleased. He’d been so careful. Besides Irene, there were few he’d actually confessed to, or at least few who’d seen the truth. So how she’d managed to work out what was going on in his head astounded him. Even Mycroft hadn’t said much on the subject.

He’d spent as much time as he could away from the house. So that weekend he was making the rounds in his car. He and Irene had agreed to meet up later, but for now he’d start with the bookstore and then see what else there was to do.

As he walked out he was surprised to see a familiar figure leaning against his car. John Watson, eyes sparkling, cocky grin in place as he kept his arms folded, body leaned there like it was his own vehicle.

“Nice ride,” John Watson said. “I like the fenders.”

“Are you following me?” Sherlock muttered pulling his bag of books a little closer. It didn’t take much for him to deduce that Watson clearly was doing just that.

“No, just was in the laundromat and saw your car. Thought I’d come over and say hello,” Watson said with a smile.

Sherlock looked him over again. He had a difficult time making deductions, eyes catching on Watson’s chest, the way his biceps looked beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt.

He stood a pace back, wanting to open the door, but unsure how to do so when Watson was still leaning against it.

“You’re not a big talker, are you?” Watson asked, smirking slightly.

He tilted his head, blonde hair catching the light in a way that had Sherlock swallowing. What was it about this boy that undid him so? Sherlock took another step forward, willing his heart to slow down.

“It depends on the topic. My fenders don’t really whip me into a verbal frenzy,” he said with a shrug.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” Watson asked, before Sherlock could say a deduction that was coming to mind.

“Afraid of you?” Sherlock said. “Fear is a waste of time. Especially irrational fear. And for someone like you…well it would be just that. So, if you don’t mind getting out of my way…I’ll be going.”

Watson didn’t move, just smirked and tossed his head. “Well then, maybe you like a little danger. Is that it?”

“I believe it’s you who likes danger,” Sherlock said. “Though not quite how everyone imagines I suppose. Still, a little drag racing to raise some money for your brother… touching.”

Watson frowned. “Brother…”

“Yes,” Sherlock said. “All quite obvious.”

Before Watson could say another word he was grabbing for the door handle and pushing him out of the way. He slid into his car without another word.

Watson seemed to get the hint and walked off. Sherlock sighed and turned on the car, pausing as he heard loud pop music from behind. Sure enough, a car had pulled up behind him, and was parked there. Sherlock’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as he watched Moriarty climb out of the driver’s seat, music still playing.

He watched as the other boy swayed his hips to the beat before heading towards the store. Sherlock’s jaw clenched.

“Do you mind?” he called.

“Not at all,” Moriarty said with a wink. “Catch you later, Sherlock.”

He was still walking. Sherlock looked over his shoulder again at the car and then sighed and put his car in reverse. With a quick tap of his foot he was careening backwards, and as expected he felt the telltale jerk as his car made contact, and then a dreadful crash of metal meeting metal, a screech as Moriarty’s car was pushed backwards.

He looked up in time to see Moriarty pausing, turning around, eyes wide. A single brow rose and a look of surprise flashed over his face before it was contained again. Those familiar lips pursed.

“You want to owe me again, Sherlock? Because that’s what you’ve done… made it so you owe me.”

“Oh whoops,” Sherlock said in a monotone. “Silly me. Appears I was a little too quick. Unfortunate accident. Suppose we all have them from time to time.”

“I’m warning you, Sherlock, you don’t mess with me,” Moriarty said, voice lowering a little as his brow furrowed. “This means war.”

Sherlock’s only distraction from making a quick retort was noting that Watson was observing as well. He was folding his arms with a smirk, grinning from ear to ear as he looked at the damage. Sherlock looked away and grabbed for his phone. He pressed call and held it up to his head, counting the rings before there was an answering click.

“Sherlock, I’m busy working. This had better be important.”

“Mycroft, you might want to look into our insurance policy,” he said, doing his best to keep his smile at bay.  

He could picture his brother straightening up, voicing getting a little sharper. “Why? What’s happened?”

“I’m afraid there might be some damage to my car’s rear bumper.”

“Sherlock! What did you do?”

 “Oh…just…hit someone. How clumsy of me.”

“Clumsy… Sherlock my insurance does not cover your poor impulse control.”

“Sorry brother dear,” Sherlock said. “I’ll make it up to you somehow. Then again, perhaps you can just skip buying a fancy suit this month. Or go without your personal trainer… can’t be that hard to say no to cake, can it now?”

He wondered if Mycroft was reaching for his migraine medication by now. Most likely.

“Are you punishing me, Sherlock? About the dance school? Is that what this is about?”

“Aren’t you punishing me because mother and father died?” Sherlock said in a flat voice.

“No. That’s ridiculous, Sherlock. Don’t be childish.”

“Then why are you making my decisions for me?” Sherlock snapped. “Why can’t you trust me to figure out what I need for myself for once?”

“I’m your guardian, that is my right,” Mycroft said in a dull tone. “Don’t confuse my practically for sentiment, brother.”

“So what you’re saying is what I want doesn’t matter, isn’t that right, Mycroft?” Sherlock said.

“You’re seventeen, Sherlock. You don’t know what you want. And by the time you figure it out, you’ll have wasted your life. I’m simply doing what is best for you and Molly.”

“I want to go to dance school. I want you to trust me to make my own decision. And I want you to stop trying to control my life just because you couldn’t control yours,” Sherlock said, slamming his fist into the dashboard.

There was a noise on the other end and Mycroft sighed.

“I’m afraid this conversation will have to continue later. I have an important meeting in a few minute’s time. We can discuss this further this evening.”

“Can’t. Wait.” Sherlock pressed the end call button and slid a hand over his forehead. He looked back up in time to see Watson still staring at him. With a sigh he hopped out of his car and walked back towards the book store. Well, while he waited for Mycroft to figure out a way out of this situation, he’d simply peruse a few more volumes he’d skipped earlier.

* * *

 

 

Moriarty was doing his best to keep his anger contained. It took everything in his power to not simply walk over and grab Sherlock by the throat. Perhaps another time he might give in to that desire. Sherlock always had looked nice with bruising on that gorgeous length of neck.

However, as the younger boy stalked off he was forced to note Watson still standing there smirking at Holmes’s retreating arse.

“If I give you money,” he said in a low voice. “I expect results. Standing there watching him ruin my car doesn’t count as a date.”

Watson looked up and shrugged. “All right, well we’ll do better next time.”

Moriarty eyed him again, looking over the simple boy with a sigh. “If you don’t get any, I don’t get any,” he said. “So get some. Perhaps you’ll even enjoy it.”

He turned to go back over to his car and assess the damage. With any luck the deal he’d worked out last week would come through and he’d have some more cash by the end of the week. Or perhaps mummy would be home this week and he could wrangle some out of her. So far he wasn’t too concerned. But a car was a luxury. And it made his dealings outside of school easier. Sherlock’s bitchy behavior had cost him something.

However, as he was about to look things over he heard Watson’s voice from behind him.

“I just upped my price.”

He turned to eye the other boy, noting the cockiness in his expression. Perhaps he hadn’t chosen the right methods for Watson after all. He’d though the sister might be a particular weak spot. However, perhaps another pressure point was in order.

“What was that?” he asked.

“I want twice what you gave me. Per date. In advance.”

Moriarty frowned. “You’ll remember I had some good motivations for you to cooperate, Watson.”

“Forget Molly then,” Watson said with a shrug.

Moriarty considered. Admittedly, he probably could forget her. She was nothing to him really. A convenient pawn in the game with Sherlock. A cute little target for him to have some fun with. There were surely half a dozen other cute virginal girls for him to break. However, he’d been challenged to have her. And he still knew that she might be the final piece in breaking Holmes once and for all. And honestly, seeing Sherlock Holmes fully break would be… just what he needed. So yes, having her accessible was useful.

He thought over the price for a moment before nodding. A few quick calculations told him it wasn’t that much more. And after he’d agreed he could dig up some more dirt on Watson. Find some other pressure points perhaps.

“Fine,” he said. “But if I don’t get results soon, you’re going to wish you’d never asked for more,” Moriarty said. “So you’d better hope you’re as smooth as you think you are.”

Watson smirked and nodded as Moriarty pulled out his wallet. Honestly, simple folk. So easy to work. A little money and they were butter in his hands. Moriarty sighed as he forked over the cash, watching as Watson strutted off. Well, perhaps this time it really would work. If not, it might be time for plan B.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, positive comments keep me going so thank you to all the lovely people who encouraged me with this! You make it possible for me to continue. Thank you so much!   
> -elsarenard


	6. Chapter 6

Greg was not happy when he watched Sherlock stalk away from Watson. In all honesty, he’d assumed it would be much easier than that. If Holmes really was gay, Watson seemed like he’d be quite the handsome bloke. Shouldn’t he have accepted?

“That’s it, we’re done for,” he muttered as he watched the retreating boy’s figure.

Donovan rolled her eyes. “You’re kidding me, right? You’re giving up that easily?”

Greg shrugged. “If he won’t accept Watson then there’s nothing left to do. Moriarty will get her and I’ll just have to sit and watch.”

“Moriarty can’t have her if the freak isn’t going on dates,” Sally pointed out. “You just have to be patient. Well…patient and…perhaps a little persistent. But your negativity isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

Greg just sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. He was tired of plans falling through. Seemed like half his life was just him being out of control of his circumstances.

“Come on, I’ve got a plan,” Sally said with a sigh. “Wait a bit and we’ll put it to work. This needs time to fully come together.”

* * *

 

 

They went to the workshop again. Sure enough, Watson was there, working with tools, eyes furiously glared on his project. Lestrade did his best not to shiver.

“Watson,” Donovan said, nodding to him.

“What do you want?” the other boy muttered, not taking his eyes off his work.

“We know what you’re trying to do,” Donovan said, raising her voice a little over the noise of the tools. “With Sherlock Holmes.”

“Is that right?” he said with a slight smirk. “And what do you plan to do about it?”

Lestrade ran his eyes over Watson’s form, searching for signs that the other man might be planning to get physical if need be.

“We want to help,” Lestrade said quickly.

“Why?” Watson asked, brow furrowing. He looked back towards them, eyes narrowing as he did, fingers curling more tightly on the tool in his hands.

Donovan jumped in. “We set Moriarty onto the whole thing. You see, Lestrade here likes Molly Hooper.”

Watson just snorted. “What is it with this girl?”

“She’s amazing,” Lestrade said, flushing slightly.

“Well, that’s none of my concern,” Watson said. “Moriarty can shag what he likes. I’m not messing with him.”

“There will be no shagging,” Lestrade said, grinding his teeth.

Donovan raised a hand at him and quickly set back to work.

“We set it up,” she said. “So that Lestrade could get the girl. We’re only using Moriarty for the money.”

Watson eyed them for a moment, looking a bit confused. “So…you two are going to help me get the codes for the machine. Make Sherlock learn to like me.”

“Sure,” Donovan said. “We’ll do some research and find out more about what he likes. Has to be something that appeals to that freakish mind of his.”

Watson shrugged and went back to work. Lestrade just looked nervously between Donovan and him.

“All right,” Watson said. “You help me that’s fine. But I’m not messing with Moriarty. I want to make that clear. You do your part there. I’m merely in this for the cash.”

“Now the party at Anderson’s,” Donovan said casually. “Perfect opportunity to take out Holmes. Sound good?”

“Sure,” Watson muttered. “I’ll think about it.”

Donovan nodded before taking Lestrade’s arm and pulling him away. Lestrade stared at her as she walked.

“Wait…did you just…Anderson’s party? But I haven’t heard anything…”

Donovan smiled and reached into her bag to pull out an array of pamphlets all labeled with an address a date and “free booze”.

“Oh…um…you’re…”

“Getting back at him for what he did to me,” Donovan said with a shrug. “Yes. Bastard deserves it. Here… scatter a few for me. And on top of that I’ve made a few social media threads too. News should get out pretty soon.”

Greg whistled at that. He had to admit Donovan knew her stuff.

* * *

 

 

Molly was excited when she found Moriarty waiting by her locker. She had to admit, of all the boys to pay attention to her, Jim was not the one she would have expected.

Still, it was nice. Having a smarter older boy interested in her for once. She couldn’t deny that she was quite excited by the prospect.

“Hello,” she said with a cheerful smile.

“Hi,” he responded, sliding in close. “Good to see you again, Molly.”

“Good to see you as well,” Molly said, smiling a little brighter. “Er…did you have a chance to watch what I sent you?”

“The Glee episodes?” Moriarty said, raising a brow. “Of course. Marvelous that. Very fun. Nice singing.”

“But what did you think of the last episode?” Molly asked, trying her best to contain her excitement.

“Hmm…nice,” Moriarty said with a shrug. “Could listen to the songs a bit more I suppose.”

Molly did her best to mask her disappointment. She should have expected this. Him brushing off Glee as something silly when she wanted to seriously discuss it.

“Er, are you going to the party?” Molly asked, shifting as she clutched at her maths textbook.

Jim eyed her and smiled again. “Perhaps. Will you be there?”

“I might be,” Molly said.

He nodded. “Good. No fun showing up if you’re not there. I’ll see you later, Molly.”

He stalked off, leaving her to consider what he’d said. It would be nice to go to the party if he really was looking forward to seeing her. Perhaps she could get him to discuss the finer points of Glee, instead of making it sound like all she liked were the cute guys and songs.

Molly sighed and shook her head before walking away. She’d just have to find a way to make sure Sherlock had a date, and she’d be on her way.

* * *

 

 

Greg was delighted when he got the message. He hadn’t been expecting it to be honest. Hoping maybe, but not expecting. Still, when Molly’s cute little text came through asking to meet up after school, he had to smile. Perhaps his luck really was changing.

Molly suggested meeting at a local park. Greg biked over, parking near the edge and sighing as he caught sight of Molly.

She had brought a blanket and had spread it out. She was currently lying on her stomach, looking down at a book. Lestrade ran a hand through his hair and walked over.

“Hey,” he said, doing his best to act nonchalant, even as his heart began beating faster.

“Oh,” Molly looked up and smiled. “Hi.”

“Um… you mind if I…?” he motioned to the blanket.

Molly sat up. “Oh no, of course. Have a seat.”

Greg smiled and sat down, fingers going down to play with the blanket almost immediately. He cleared his throat.

“Er so… this…invitation… what did you want me to come here for?”

Molly nodded. “Oh I just, I remember you saying that you wanted to help. So I have some insights on Sherlock for that boy…Watson or whatever his name is.”

“Oh, do tell?” Lestrade said, leaning forward a bit.

“And trust me, I don’t say any of this lightly, because exploring the inner working of Sherlock’s mind… that’s… messy. But I’ll do anything to get the freedom to date.”

“Okay,” Lestrade said, straightening.

Molly sighed. “Well, confirmed that he is gay. Because I found interesting things on his laptop when searching. So unless he’s looking at… well…porn for research, I’d say we’re well set on that.”

Lestrade blushed slightly. “Oh. Is that so?”

“Yup,” Molly said.

“Any ideas on types of guys?” Lestrade said. “Er…twinks…bears…um…”

Molly shrugged. “All types. I don’t think that matters all that much to him. I’d say if I had to guess anything he likes intelligence. But maybe there’s something else too. Not sure.”

Lestrade sighed. “Is there anything else we can do? We really need all the help we can get. Nothing else is working. We’ve got to…get behind enemy lines so to speak.”

Molly smiled and shut her book before standing up. “Well lucky for you, Sherlock is at dance class until five o’clock. Should be plenty of time to rummage through his room.”

There was a pause before Lestrade stood as well. He didn’t savor the idea of angering Sherlock, but nonetheless, any information he could gain would be one step closer to calling something like this an actual date.

Molly assured him her place was close enough to walk, so he led his bike on foot, following after her.

They stopped at a large house, leaving Lestrade a bit more in awe of the Holmes family than he had been before.

Molly let him park his bike before showing him up the steps and into the house. She glanced around before heading upstairs to one of the first doors, clearly shut. She knocked once before opening it and looking around.

“All clear,” she said, motioning him into the room.

Greg stepped in, doing his best to avoid stepping on anything. It was difficult. The floor was littered with an array of items. Clothes mostly, but a few dishes and scientific instruments as well.

Molly sighed and went to the desk.

“Most valuable stuff is probably on his cell, but I see tickets to the ballet for this Friday. Microft probably procured them to get Sherlock off his back. Hmm… I’ll snap some photos of the books he’s been reading. And there’s probably some music over on the nightstand if you want to have a look. Overall, not much more information here.”

Molly headed over to the chest of drawers next. She opened one up and looked inside.

“Aha.”

Lestrade turned to look just in time to see Molly pulling out a bright red… oh god was that a thong?

“Um…” Lestrade swallowed. “What does…that tell us?”

“That he wants to have sex someday,” Molly said with a smile.

“He could just like the color!” Lestrade scoffed. “Furthermore, couldn’t they be a girls? Like…Adler or whatever…someone else’s? A last conquest?”

Molly gasped and pulled her hand away from the drawer. She flushed scarlet and shut it again.

“No, not if he’s keeping a dildo with it,” Molly muttered.

Lestrade cleared his throat and moved towards the door.

“So…can I see your room?”

Molly stared at him for a long moment and shook her head. “No, a…a person’s room is very personal.”

Lestrade didn’t quite make the logical connection there, but accepting it.

“Er…want to go for a walk instead?”

Molly looked up at him again and nodded. “Yes, that might be for the best,” she admitted.

Lestrade offered her a weak smile. Well, he’d learned a bit too much about Sherlock Holmes for his comfort. But at the very least they were a few steps closer. He’d pass on the information to Watson tonight, and with any luck they’d be home free from there.

* * *

 

 

John had just begun to relax. He’d found his usual spot at the bar and was nursing a drink, watching various familiar faces filter into the place. After all the drama at home, he’d grown used to coming here.

He wasn’t prepared, however, to see the two younger students walk through the door.

Donovan put on a brave face, he’d admit that much. However, Lestrade looked less secure, trembling slightly as he came forward.

John sighed and downed another swallow of beer, leaning an elbow against the bar.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“We’re here to give you that information you wanted,” Donovan said, taking a seat on the stool next to his. “So, here’s Sherlock’s schedule. Molly got a look at it while he was distracted. Reading list. Music he likes. He also enjoys Italian food when he eats. Otherwise his passions are anatomy, and chemistry… and dance as you probably already knew.”

“So what, I’m supposed to buy him some noodles and classical music and sit around listening to him prattle about science?” John muttered.

“He’s going to be at the ballet this weekend,” Lestrade added. “Romeo and Juliet.”

“I can’t be seen at the ballet,” John said.

He couldn’t imagine what that would do to his reputation. After all, boys like Sherlock Holmes who did things like ballet tended to be lumped into… well…categories. He thought of how Donovan herself often called Holmes a freak. Yes, he couldn’t deal with that kind of pressure.

“But he’ll be there,” Lestrade said. “He’s got tickets.”

“Surely you can put up with it for one night,” Donovan said, raising a brow and folding her arms. “After all, won’t the pay out be worth it?”

John thought back to the money. It was helpful. And besides that, he couldn’t afford to let more shit get out about Harry.

Lestrade smiled suddenly. “Er…don’t know if it helps, but you should know he has a red thong…er…and a dildo. You know...”

John stared at him for a long moment, trying to process the information. He did his best to not allow his mind to picture Sherlock Holmes wearing nothing but a thong, lying on his back with… god that was wrong.

He shook his head and looked away. Donovan looked slightly amused.

“Couldn’t hurt, right?”

John shrugged and took another sip of his drink. Well, he hated to make that sexual image his motivation, because he already had more than enough, but he did admit it really really couldn’t hurt.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the late update. Today is a terrible day but hey here’s some fic anyways. Sometimes you just got to write through the pain. Hope you enjoy! If you like please review. I need a pick me up.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay another update! I was initially going to include the party in this chapter too, but figured it would be too long, so another chapter should be up fairly soon.   
> Be warned I know next to nothing about ballet, so apologies for inaccuracies. I did two years as a child and that is the extent of my knowledge.

Sherlock had been looking forward to the ballet for months now. As soon as he’d seen the program for the coming year he’d found the simplest and most straightforward way to persuade Mycroft to buy them for him. Well…otherwise known as blackmail. Which was how he and Irene were sitting together, watching the various attendees pass by their prime seats.

It was amazing the various high ranking people who attended the ballet. Something useful to remember for the future then. They’d been enjoying for some time, but Sherlock was aware that the deadline for the start was coming.

He stood and looked at Irene.

“I’m going to use the loo before it starts. Save my seat?”

“Unless someone more interesting comes along,” Irene said with a wink.

“Oh please,” Sherlock muttered. “Rich bored trophy wives? Surely you wouldn’t be all that interested in them.”

Irene smiled. “Maybe. It depends.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Well, how about I seduce the wife and you seduce the husband?” Irene giggled. “And we can have a nice little foursome affair together.”

Sherlock huffed. “I’m done with you and your nonsense. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Make it a quickie in the loo then,” she said with a wink.

He sighed and walked away without another word. Honestly, there was no talking to her when she was in such a mood.

Sherlock did his best to read the people he passed. Quite the wide array overall, but he caught a whiff of a few scandals that he might let Mycroft know about if the man was being good. He did deserve a little more help after all. Especially with the treat of the ballet tickets.

Sherlock stalked into the loo with a small smile. Really, there was nothing that could possibly ruin this evening for him.

That was until the door opened while he was at the sink washing his hands, and John Watson stalked in.

Watson cleaned up nice. Holmes hated to admit it, but as he eyed Watson from the mirror, he had to swallow once to maintain his composure. His gaze drifted over Watson, admiring the nice tailoring of the jacket and trousers he had on, the way his hair was combed neatly.

Sherlock turned off the sink and stood there for a moment, watching. Sure enough Watson approached him instead of heading for one of the urinals.

He stood at the counter, eyeing Sherlock in the mirror.

“If you’re planning on asking me out again you might as well get the humiliation over with,” Sherlock said with a sigh, reaching for a paper towel.

Watson raised a single brow. “Just washing my hands before I go to my seat. Not everything is about you Holmes.”

Sherlock started for a moment, but sure enough Watson washed his hands diligently before heading to the door. There was a moment of silence as it closed where Sherlock tried to gather his thoughts before he headed back towards the theatre to take his seat again.

Irene was staring at him as he arrived back at their row. Within a few seconds he’d figured out why. John Watson had taken the seat next to his.

His eyes narrowed. This had to be some kind of a set up. Though how Watson had managed to procure such a ticket wasn’t something he was quite sure about. Was the boy really that set on getting into his pants?

“Everything all right?” Irene said in a low whisper.

Sherlock nodded and glanced at Watson once more before taking his seat.

“Fine,” he muttered.

He turned to Watson once more.

“So, what brings you to the ballet?”

Watson raised a finger to his lips. “Sh it’s starting.”

Sherlock settled back in his seat as the swell of the orchestra grew and the lights dimmed, but he was not amused by the intent look that Watson was giving the stage. There was no way that boy was here for the ballet. This had to be about the silly attempts at courtship that Watson  had pulled off over the last few days.

“What do you want?” he asked again.

Watson turned and frowned at him. “Do you mind?”

“Do I mind what?” Sherlock said. “You’re the one intruding on the ballet I’m trying to enjoy.”

Watson stared at him for a long moment. “Well it’s not The Rite of Spring, but I’d at least heard it was pretty good. So do you mind letting me actually enjoy?”

An older woman shushed them, but Sherlock ignored her. He stared at Watson harder.

“You know The Rite of Spring ?” he demanded.

Watson snorted. “Of course. Firebird as well. Gorgeous compositions. Even better performed of course.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and stared Watson over for a long moment. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull?”

“I’m trying to watch the ballet,” Watson murmured.

Sherlock fell silent, turning his gaze back to the stage. He was supposed to be enjoying this. It was difficult of course. He found his eyes turning to Watson instead, eyeing his face for signs of interest. Searching for the deductions that he knew had to lie there. Something seemed off. However, everything in Watson’s behavior and posture seemed right. He was leaning forward in his seat, eyes on the stage, a smile playing on his lips as he examined the dancers.

Irene elbowed him once in the middle of the performance and he was forced to glance back at what was happening in the choreography, but it was very difficult to keep his eyes off of John Watson.

The other boy was attractive, enough so just in the general terms of aesthetics without looking so dashing in his suit. But to add to that with a casual smile on his face as he watched the performance, clearly at ease as he gazed on the dancers, that was simply too much. Sherlock tried to restrain a shudder and failed.

When the curtain fell for intermission, Sherlock did his best to school his face back into a neutral expression, but it was proving more difficult than he might have anticipated. This was not helped by Irene excusing herself with a smirk, leaving him and Watson alone.

“I keep imagining you up there,” Watson said softly. “You’re quite the talented dancer, Holmes. I hope you know that."

Sherlock flushed slightly. “Well, I’m sure you’ve imagined all sorts of things, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to see them. What do you want, Watson?”

“Come to Anderson’s party with me?” Watson said with a smile.

“You never give up, do you?” Sherlock said.

He turned and stared at the stage to avoid the eyes the other boy was making at him. Really this was becoming absurd.

“Was that a yes?” Watson asked.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the stage as the soft tone to signal the end of intermission rang out.

Irene had reappeared and he could see that her stockings were misaligned and there was a small stain on her skirt. Well, she’d certainly made good use of the few minutes between the acts.

“Is that a no then?” Watson asked, staring at Sherlock for a long moment.

Sherlock considered. “No.”

“I’ll pick you up at 9:30 then?” John said with a smile.

Sherlock remained silent.

It was stupid to even consider it. But he had to admit there was something appealing about Watson. And perhaps it was simply easier to not make a fuss here in such a public space after all.

Irene smirked at him, and he knew she must have heard. Well then, he’d simply have to remark on her having sex with a politician’s wife then. The perfume really did make it obvious, she should have known better.

As the curtain rose once more, Sherlock sighed and settled back in his seat. Well, there was much to consider after such an eventful day. Certainly more than he would have expected at the ballet.

* * *

 

 

Molly had been looking forward to the party all week. When Mary had suggested going in spite of Mycroft’s instructions, Molly had to admit she was intrigued. Perhaps it was possible. After all, most evenings Mycroft was either off running the government, or he was deeply buried in his own work at home. So regardless, it seemed plausible to be able to sneak out.

“Come on,” Mary urged. “It won’t be so hard. He’ll be busy in his office and we can walk right out the front door.”

Molly bit her lip. While she didn’t relish the idea of deceiving Mycroft, at the moment it did seem the only way.

She eyed herself in the mirror, taking in the nice black dress that Mary had helped her pick out, her make up all fixed up, her hair curling in ringlets around her face. She’d put enough time and effort in. This had to happen.

They headed to the stairs. Molly was as quiet as possible, tiptoeing down to the entryway and moving towards the door. Mycroft, to her surprise, was sitting in the living room. However, his back was facing them and he had a newspaper in his hands. Well, perhaps not the end of the world.

Molly kept walking, urging Mary on a little faster.

However, she was interrupted by Mycroft’s voice.

“Should have used the window.”

She winced and paused, looking to where he was folding the paper and turning around with a frown.

“And where would you two be off to?” Mycroft said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“We’re going to a small study group of friends,” Molly said, though she winced the moment it left her mouth. No one would buy that, least of all Mycroft who could find deductions in the smallest detail, and who certainly wasn’t blind to the dresses and makeup.

“Otherwise known as an orgy?” Mycroft said, raising a single brow and folding his arms.

“Mr. Holmes,” Mary said with a soft smile, “it’s just a party.”

Mycroft stared at her for a long moment before looking at Molly. “I expected better of you. You have an exam on Monday and you’re off cavorting about like a fool. I thought we raised you to be more than this.”

“Exactly, it’s _Monday_ ,” Molly hissed. “I have plenty of time to study. And I’m not being foolish in wanting to be social. Just because I don’t relish the thought of spending my weekends alone like you and Sherlock.”

Mycroft sighed and raised a hand up to rub at his temple.

“Sherlock.”

Molly was relatively surprised when her brother’s head appeared from the kitchen doorway. She would have expected him to be locked up in his room by now, trying his best to forget that weekends existed. He stepped into the room, folding his arms in a perfect imitation of Mycroft, though admittedly with a tighter purple shirt instead of the fancy suit jacket.

“What?”

Mycroft sighed. “Do you know anything about a party this weekend?”

“I don’t see how this is relevant to my current experiment,” Sherlock said.

“People expect me to be there,” Molly said suddenly. “I want to go. Why is that a crime?”

“You know the new rule, Molly. If Sherlock isn’t going, you’re not going.”

Molly frowned and stared at her brother. “Why can’t you be normal, for once?”

“Define normal,” Sherlock said.

“Going to a party on the weekends is normal,” Molly said.

Sherlock sighed. “Sounds boring.”

“I want to go to Anderson’s party!” Molly cried. “Please, Mycroft, this is ridiculous.”

“Anderson’s party?” Mycroft said. “Now we’re getting somewhere. More insight, Sherlock?”

“Anderson’s party is merely another excuse for the student population to coalesce in an atmosphere where they can consume excessive amounts of alcohol and rub their bodies on one another in the hopes of forgetting about their meaningless lives,” Sherlock muttered.

Molly sighed. “Can you just…for one night be my brother. I want to go to this. Would you please come with me so that I can go?”

She stared at him, looking him straight in the eyes. Within a few seconds he was squirming, and she knew she’d done her job well. She pouted a little bit more.

“Please, Sherlock? For me?”

After a moment Sherlock sighed and waved a hand.

“Fine, I’ll make an appearance. Happy?”

Molly stared at him for a second before letting out a squeal of delight and running to grab him up in a tight hug.

“Really?”

“Yes,” he snapped. “Really.”

“Aw thank you!” Molly said with a giggle. She turned to look at Mary who was smiling and nodding at her before catching Mycroft, arms folded, brow furrowed.

“I expected better of you, Sherlock,” he muttered before turning his attention on Molly.

“And you,” he said sternly. “You will be reminded that I expect you to still maintain some decency. If you are arrested, impregnated, or the cause of any harmful behavior which will have serious consequences in your future years…you can expect full well that there will be further implications at home. Am I understood?”

Molly frowned but nodded. She didn’t quite understand what Mycroft expected to happen. She might not have his genius level of intelligence but she certainly wasn’t an idiot.

There was a knock at the door suddenly. Sherlock frowned but went to answer it nonetheless. Molly watched and smirked as she noticed it was a boy she’d seen at school before. From the little she knew this must be the one Greg had talked about.

“Er… we said 9:30 right?” the boy said, smiling at Sherlock.

“Whatever, I’m driving,” Sherlock muttered, reaching for his coat and scarf on the hook before pushing past the boy out the door. Molly watched in mild amusement as he turned up his coat collar with the boy trailing after him. Well that certainly was an improvement.

Mycroft stared for a long moment before finally snapping his jaw shut and glancing at her.

“I’m serious on the behavior, Molly. No breaking and entering, no hacking, no ritual animal slaughter, do I make myself clear?”

Molly sighed. “It’s a party, not a mafia meeting Mycroft,” she muttered. She grabbed her own coat and smiled at Mary. “But I’ll be sure to have fun if that’s what you’re asking.”

Mycroft huffed as he pulled up his newspaper again, muttering something under his breath as he went back to reading. Molly giggled and grabbed at Mary’s hand as they went to the door. This was going to be a night to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed please comment! Again, hope to have the next chapter up soon before I head off for two weeks of spring vacation! :D


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: lots of drinking in this chapter and mentions of drug use.

Greg was ecstatic as Donovan straightened his collar and fixed his hair. John had just texted and said that he and Sherlock were on their way to the party, which meant Molly would also be on her way there.

“I just can’t believe this is actually happening,” Greg said for the third time. “I’m going to get to talk with her. Maybe dance with her. Get her a drink. Maybe she’ll…maybe she’ll even let me kiss her.”

“Calm down, you haven’t even gone on a proper date yet,” Donovan muttered. “Don’t get your hopes too high up, Lestrade. She could still turn you down.”

He pouted into the mirror before turning to fix her with a stare.

“And what about you? Fixing your eyes on someone?”

Donovan shrugged. “The boys at the school are idiots. And most of the girls aren’t the least bit interested.”

Lestrade smirked. “Ah, well, doesn’t mean you couldn’t find one. You seem like a decent girl. Got to be someone willing to put up with you.”

She shot him a glare but otherwise ignored him as she fixed her blouse, turning to and fro in front of the mirror.

“Should I wear a dress do you think?”

“Wear what you’re comfortable in,” Lestrade remarked. “Don’t give a fuck about what anyone else has to say.”

Sally’s eyes met his in the mirror and she smiled.

“You’re not too bad of a guy, Lestrade. You know that?”

“I guess I hope so,” Lestrade said with a smile. “All right, you ready?”

“Ready,” Donovan said.

* * *

 

 

John wasn’t sure what to make of Sherlock coming so easily. He’d expected the boy to put up more of a fight.

However, there he was, driving his car with his hands gripping the steering wheel, eyes straight ahead.

It was tempting to try to make conversation, but John decided to just allow the silence to continue, just reaching over to turn the radio up slightly.

They pulled up in front of Anderson’s. The party was already clearly in full swing.

John snorted as he noted Anderson himself at the door, trying to dissuade people from not coming in. He watched as Sherlock shut off the car and climbed out, not bothering to look and see if John was following. Sure enough, Sherlock stalked right past Anderson muttering something about him needing to shut up and how his babble was lowering the IQ of the whole street. God, he could get used to following Holmes around, that was for sure.

Anderson spluttered a bit angrily and John walked past him with a cocky grin. He didn’t know much about the party, but he was pretty sure Anderson had no intention of making it open to the whole school. It wasn’t really his style. This was someone else’s handiwork.

Sherlock was pushing past others, heading deeper into the house. John smirked as he watched him, wondering what the other boy was up to. This was going to be an interesting experience. Sherlock Holmes at a party.

He trailed along, stopped by a pretty girl practically jumping onto him. Jeanine wasn’t that her name? Jeanette? He couldn’t remember. Regardless he wasn’t interested at the moment, so he smiled and offered her a seat instead before continuing on after Sherlock.

* * *

 

 

 

Sally had hoped for more from the party to be honest. Seeing the look on Anderson’s face certainly had been a selling point, but as soon as she had a drink and looked around she had to admit she wanted more than this. She’d spent so long now helping Greg try to get the girl that she’d almost given up on her own romantic pursuits. Not that she really had anything going.

She glanced around. A few decent looking guys, but nothing that was really worthy of her time. And then her gaze caught on Irene Adler.

Irene was wearing a low cut black dress, full make up, and tall stiletto heels that made her look incredibly sexy. Sally downed another swallow of her drink before heading in Adler’s direction.

She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or her frustrations with Lestrade, but she was determined to at least get something fun out of tonight. And if that was talking to Adler, maybe she’d try it out.

“Hello,” she tried, putting on a casual smile. “Enjoying the party?”

“It’s average by my standards,” Irene said with a shrug. “Then again, I get to go to uni ones a lot more than the average student. And now that I’m 18 I even get the occasional invite to more…adult fare if you will. So yes, I’m a bit bored by the poor music selection and excessive cheap alcohol if you catch my drift.”

Irene’s blue eyes slid over Sally’s figure and she smiled suddenly.

“But, I suppose not everything is boring here,” Irene purred.

“No, maybe not,” Sally said. “So, you and Holmes. What’s that all about?”

“He’s interesting,” Irene said. She took a seat on the couch nearby and smiled. “I need more interesting in my life.”

“He’s a freak,” Sally muttered.

“Don’t mind that either,” Irene said with a smile.

“But you’re not a couple,” Sally clarified.

“Darling, if Sherlock would get in my pants I’d be all his, but sadly he’s rather…of a different persuasion. To be honest I am too…for the most part. Doesn’t mean I can’t have fun every now and then, though.”

Sally smirked slightly. Well, fun was a bit of an understatement in her opinion, but she’d let Irene get away with it.

“And if we’re going to talk about Sherlock, why are you pushing John Watson at him?” Irene said, smirking as she took a sip of her own drink.

Donovan paused, jaw dropping. “What?”

“I know what you’re up to. I’m not stupid. Not like Sherlock.”

“You think Sherlock is stupid?” Sally asked.

“Just a bit oblivious at times I suppose,” Irene said with a shrug. “Not really too surprising. Now tell me. What’s this about?”

“Just… more for Molly than anything,” Sally muttered. “With men clambering for her left and right.”

“Don’t get jealous now,” Irene tutted. “I’m sure you’ll have some people clambering for you before too long.”

Sally sighed and shook her head.

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” she said. “I just want Greg happy. If Molly Hooper does that then so be it.”

“So much concern for this other boy,” Irene said, furrowing her brow. “Perhaps you want him.”

“No nothing like that,” Sally said. She looked towards Greg and noted that he didn’t look nearly as happy as he had a few minutes ago. “I’ll…er…talk to you later. It was…er…nice.”

“I assure you, the pleasure was all mine,” Irene said with another gorgeous smile. She winked once and left Sally to wonder why she’d ever decided to help Greg in the first place. She gave  along sigh before making up her mind.

She headed towards him, determined to do some damage control.

* * *

 

 

 

Greg was not pleased. After all he’d done, there was Molly on Moriarty’s arm. Completely oblivious to him, smiling at some other guy like he was the best thing in the world.

To make matters worse, when he went over to talk to her by the punch bowl, hoping perhaps it was a mistake, she looked completely uninterested.

“Oh hi Greg,” she said. “Have you met Mary?”

He glanced at the other girl beside Molly, raising a brow. Mary Morstan wasn’t homely by any means, but she wasn’t anything really interesting. Nothing compared to Molly at least.

“Well you two could talk,” Molly suggested, smiling tersely.

Mary didn’t look altogether pleased either, eyeing Greg with a look of disdain. He shuffled a bit closer to Molly herself.

“I just…wanted to talk to you,” he said with an uneasy smile. “You know… just… it’s kind of why I came.”

Molly frowned and glanced from Mary and back to him again.

“Er that’s sweet Greg, but as you can see I’m busy with Jim at the moment.”

She gave a small wave and then disappeared off into the crowd again, likely to seek out Jim.

Greg stood there at a loss. Of all the things that could happen, this was not what he’d expected. Did Molly actually like Moriarty? That insufferable creep? How… how could good sweet lovely Molly possibly want to be with him?

He was grabbed by Donovan who looked him over with a furrowed brow.

“You okay?”

“I just…she doesn’t want me,” he murmured.

“Hey, it’s all right,” Donovan said. “Come on, let’s get a drink and dance or something. There’ll be other girls.”

“No, this is…we set John up with Sherlock all so this could happen,” Greg whispered. “It’s…how could this not happen?”

Donovan stared at him for a long moment. “Lestrade, sometimes girls pick someone else. It happens. She doesn’t…owe you anything. You do realize that, right? That…that she has the right to say no?”

Lestrade closed his eyes. She was right of course. He was blowing this out of proportion. But that didn’t make it any easier to accept. Molly had been so lovely, so perfect. He would have been delighted to take her out, let her talk about that biology class he knew she loved. Held her hand as she went shopping. Taken her to go pet the cats at the little store downtown. So many possibilities all gone in a moment.

He let out a sigh and pulled away.

“I’m done,” he muttered and jerked out of Donovan’s grip. Time to go find John and call the whole thing off.

He couldn’t believe he’d allowed this to go so far. Clearly nothing good would come of being in love with Molly.

* * *

 

 

Sherlock was in a foul mood by the time they arrived at the party. He set off into the house, aware that John was tailing him. He shot a single smug look at Anderson, admiring how upset he was over the party happening against his will, before Sherlock was up the stairs and looking for Molly.

He did not relish the thought of her being here. Anything could happen at an event like this. And Molly lacked the traditional Holmes’s cleverness.

Of course, just as he was about to give up and go back downstairs Moriarty swooped in.

“And what’s this? Sherlock Holmes at a party? Is the world coming to an end?” he said with a mocking grin. “What brings you here, Sherlock? Lost?”

“Fuck off,” Sherlock muttered.

Moriarty smirked and moved closer, pushing his face into Sherlock’s.

“And what about Molly? Is she here?”

Sherlock froze and stared at him for a long moment.

“Stay away from my sister.”

Moriarty just laughed and pulled back, folding his arms. “Oh I’ll stay away from her.” His eyes roved over Sherlock’s body. “I can’t say the same for her. Seems both the Holmes have a problem with staying away from me.”

Sherlock growled and turned away, eyes scanning over the room, trying to spot her. Where was Molly? Was she in trouble? Maybe she’d had something in her drink. Maybe she hadn’t arrived at all…perhaps there had been an accident. His thoughts were going wild.

A moment later he turned back in time to see Molly, smiling as she took Moriarty’s hand. Moriarty looked directly at Sherlock and gave a wink before sauntering off with her.

Sherlock stared for a long moment, trying to figure out what to do. Had he been foolish not to tell Molly? He’d hoped to not have to admit his embarrassing mistakes, but maybe that was what needed to happen.

He pushed his way over to where she was.

“Molly, I have something to tell you,” he hissed.

Molly turned to shoot him a look. “If you hadn’t noticed I’m _busy_ at the moment, Sherlock. Go make someone else miserable tonight. I don’t have time for you.”

He stumbled back, stunned.

Could she really be so cruel?

But as she turned away and walked after Moriarty Sherlock realized that she clearly could. Obviously she didn’t care all that much.

In their youth he’d always admired Molly’s selflessness, but it appeared that had all but disappeared in an instant.

He looked around and his eyes settled on a tray of shots. It took him only a moment to make his calculations. He hadn’t eaten all day. Based on his weight and his minimal experience with alcohol before…well it would only take a few of those to get thoroughly pissed.

Sherlock grabbed one up and downed it, slamming the glass down and picking up another. He’d take all he could get. Who cared about Molly. All of this was a waste of time anyways.

For the first time in a long while he found himself craving his traditional fare. Perhaps drugs might make things better… Maybe he’d have to search some out later.

But for today he’d settle for alcohol. Try to wash away the pain and the frustration and the confusion.

Anything to forget and move on.

* * *

 

 

John had been at a loss ever since he had arrived at the party. Greg had latched onto him almost immediately.

“She’s here! She’s really here!” he’d gasped in excitement.

“Yes,” John said, patting his shoulder. “Your little wish come true. Now I need to go find Sherlock. Did you see which way he went?”

Greg shrugged. “I’ve been too busy looking for Molly. Have you seen her?”

John shook his head. “Well good luck.”

He headed off up the stairs, hoping to maybe get some idea of where Sherlock had snuck off to.

By the time he found him, it was clear that Sherlock was already quite tipsy. The boy grabbed for another shots glass, downing it in a swallow before looking back at John, cheeks flushed.

“Er, might want to take it easy?” John suggested, running a hand through his hair.

Sherlock shrugged and grabbed yet another drink. John tried to take it, but Sherlock was having none of that.

“No, it’s mine,” he snapped, before downing the drink.

“Easy,” John said again. “Come on, Sherlock. What are you doing?”

“I’m getting sloshed, isn’t that what you do at a party?” Sherlock said, voice slightly slurred.

John stared at him for a moment, wondering what he’d missed. As far as he could tell, Holmes wasn’t usually the type to care what anyone else was doing. However, as he looked around for some kind of a cause for the odd behavior, Sherlock slipped away. By the time he’d looked back, Holmes had kicked off his shoes and climbed on top of one of the tables.

“Sherlock,” he tried, but the boy was already dancing, and people had begun to form a circle around him.

John had to admit, he was mesmerizing. He couldn’t tear his eyes off of Sherlock as the other boy began to move to the music, hips gyrating, body moving in perfect rhythm. He swayed, arms raising above his head before sliding back down over his chest and down to his waist. John swallowed as he followed Sherlock’s movements, admiring his slim lithe figure, suddenly turned so unexpectedly sexual.

He did a move that pushed his butt back towards John, and suddenly his head was turned over his shoulder and he was smirking at John before giving one sly wink.

Sherlock’s body rocked slightly, and his hands went down to pull at the hem of his shirt, sliding it out of his trousers. As he continued to dance, he moved to play with the buttons at his cuffs, sliding them slowly out, leaving them open.

John was confused, until the next move made it apparent what was happening.

A hand slid up to the buttons of his purple dress shirt, sliding them out of the holes slowly one by one. There were a few whistles, and then Sherlock was sliding his hands over his bare chest. John felt heat flooding his cheeks as he watched.

 Sherlock shrugged and moved his hands up to push the shirt off his shoulders, sending the garment down to rest at his arms, before finally working it off. He did a slow circle over his head with the shirt before throwing it at a nearby girl.

John stared in admiration at Sherlock’s toned chest, loving the way he could suddenly see so much creamy skin and hard muscle. In any other context this would be wet dream worthy, but he wasn’t ignoring the fact that Sherlock was clearly drunk, and that something must have upset him enough to cause him to go off like this.

Sherlock’s hands had moved to his belt even as he continued to move to the beat. He undid the latch. He pulled the material out in a slow whisper, again throwing it into the crowd, even as his fingers moved to the button and zip of his trousers.

John moved forward, pressing past people. He noted Moriarty to one side leering. Molly’s eyes were wide, but she wasn’t moving to stop it.

He grabbed Sherlock’s arm and tried to pull him from the table, stopped only as the boy resisted, pulling back until his head clunked into the chandelier.

John gasped and finally managed to get Sherlock down, cradling him in his arms and looking into those gorgeous eyes that were blinking up at him.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” he said firmly.

“I’m fine,” Sherlock said, trying to pull away.

“You’re not, you might have a concussion,” John said. “Come on.”

He pushed past Moriarty who was still leering at Sherlock. He headed outside, still keeping a tight grip on Sherlock. It was a bit awkward with how tall he was, but John managed.

Once outside he sat Sherlock down on a nearby bench and looked him over. It was obvious he was drunk, although how bad John couldn’t be sure since he hadn’t seen how many drinks the boy had before he’d caught him. As for his head, well there was no signs of bleeding, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hurt. John sighed as he pushed the hair away from Sherlock’s eyes, looking at him carefully.

“I’m fine,” Sherlock muttered again.

He was interrupted by Greg appearing.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“Not right now,” John said through gritted teeth.

“It’s off,” Greg said. “It’s…she’s not into me.”

John sighed and rolled his eyes. “Greg. Do you like her?”

“Yes,” the boy said, looking confused.

“And is she worth the trouble?” John snapped.

“Er…well she seemed to be,” Greg said.

“She either is or isn’t,” John said. “That’s the thing. You are a good man. And you shouldn’t let anyone make you feel like you don’t deserve what you want. If she says no, fine. But to me it sounds like you haven’t even asked properly. Don’t give up so easily.”

Greg nodded slowly, though John still wasn’t certain if the message had sunk in. However, Sherlock had tilted to the side, and he was forced to reach out and grab Sherlock before he could topple to the side.

“Look, just figure out what you want,” John said softly, even as he kept his gaze focused on Sherlock, thinking how he might need to take his own advice.

With a sigh he stroked Sherlock’s hair back from his face and wondered for the umpteenth time how he’d managed to get himself into this situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well the resolutions to the party will have to wait a bit. I'm off to England for two weeks so it might be a bit, but hopefully I can do some writing on the road. 
> 
> If you enjoyed please comment! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Come see me on [Tumblr](http://elsarenard.tumblr.com/) to chat. 
> 
> Kudos and positive comments feed my dreams! :D


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